


Best if Used By

by ALittleBitofThis



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Family, Human Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Iron Dad, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Sickfic, Sokovia Accords, Terminal Illnesses, Terrorism, Vibranium (Marvel), Wakanda, spider son
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-05-25 06:43:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 40,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14971310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALittleBitofThis/pseuds/ALittleBitofThis
Summary: People with healing factors don’t get sick. But what if a poison that would instantly kill a mortal hits an enhanced hero? When Peter’s body enters a losing battle with a deadly toxin, the Avengers must race against time to save his life. And Tony? He’s willing to do anything to save his kid, even if it means breaking the rules.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I originally had a prompt about sickness, but what I posted on tumblr (https://adorkablesuperhero.tumblr.com/post/174414152350/prompt-2-kiss-on-the-forehead) was actually the second version of what I wrote. I came up with this idea first, and rewrote the original drabble so I could save this for a longer story.

Spider-Man shot out a web, swinging as quickly as he could. Just a little bit further. As soon as he’d heard the news, he’d dropped everything and suited up.

James Rhodes and Tony Stark strode towards the police captain with a military bomb squad in tow. “What’s the sitch?”

“Around 1100 hours, someone reported a suspicious box at the old Miriam Apartment Building. Evacuations are underway within a 9-block radius blast zone,” Captain Stacy responded. “We sent a couple officers to investigate and they called in the alert. The package had a timer on it, and as of right now you have… 17 minutes 43 seconds left” Tony added the countdown to both his and Rhodes’ heads-up displays.

“Let’s go,” War Machine said. He gave the driver of the bomb truck an affirmative signal, and the two iron-clad men took off towards the bomb. As he got closer, Peter saw the two figures shoot across an intersection he was approaching.

“Karen, call Mr. Stark!” Peter swung around the corner to follow after them. The call was rejected, only for Spider-Man to call a second time.

“Kid, I’m kinda busy right now,” Iron Man finally answered, landing in front of the designated building. An abandoned apartment building was a pretty good place to hide a bomb, as anyone who might see it wouldn’t want to be arrested for trespassing.

“I know. I’m here,” Peter assured. He was working his way closer to the pair, but swinging was a slower form of travel than jets.

“You’re WHAT?” Tony looked down the street and saw the red and blue figure in the distance.  _For Pete’s Sake._  He didn’t want Peter to be in this dangerous of a position.

“Yeah. What can I do to help, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked. Tony eyed the building again. The kid shouldn’t be anywhere near here, but he knew Peter wouldn’t listen if told to stand down. However, he could keep him farther from the bomb.

“Okay. I need you to do something real important,” Iron Man said. “They’re trying to clear an evacuation zone, and if this bomb goes off, anyone in the radius might be hurt. Can you make sure it’s clear?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure thing, Mr. Stark!” Spider-Man changed course. The streets looked clear or in the process of clearing as he moved from the epicenter to the perimeter. There was a steady stream of people hustling out of the area. Spider-Man landed gently on a cop car at the perimeter.

“Everything good here?” He asked a cop who responded to the vigilante with shocked, staring eyes. Unfazed, Peter scanned the area and saw a distressed woman arguing with a young policeman. He flipped down from the vehicle and headed towards them.

“Please! I lost my son!” She cried, trying to peer past him. Her blue eyes brimmed with tears, and her hand shook as she pointed past him.

“Ma’am. No one’s allowed back in. I’m sure he’s somewhere out here,” He tried to assure her. The rookie glanced around, hoping another officer would come help.

“No! I can’t find him! He’s too young to understand what’s going on,” She tried to push past the officer, but he blocked her.

“Ma’am! You can’t-“

“Whoa, Whoa!” Spider-Man put his hands between them and broke it up. It took a moment or two, but luckily the woman was relieved enough to see the hero that she stopped fighting them. “Miss, where did you last see him?”

“At the corner of 24th and 15th. Please, you have to help!” She pleaded.

“I’ll look for him,” Spider-Man promised. Before the officer could stop him from going back in, he was shooting off a web. The location was almost back to the epicenter, and he had no idea time was left on the bomb.

“Well?” Rhodes asked, looking at the bomb squad leader, Shawna Macey.

“Based on the materials used to build this, it’s definitely some sort of compressed substance, but I don’t think its an explosive material. The encasing suggests that it’s some sort of gas, but… this wiring is new tech. I’ve never seen anything like it,” She reported. Much to Tony’s dismay, the woman looked more anxious than she should’ve.

“Can we just freeze the gas down to compress it or stop the electricity flow?” Iron Man asked. The technician glanced at the bomb.

“Maybe, but, we’ve never tried it before. You’d need extreme levels of cold,” Shawna said skeptically. “If we got close to absolute zero, it could work, but the program might take the increased resistance as a form of tampering and detonate.”

“Well, we only have 5 minutes and 27 seconds left, so if you can’t disarm this bomb, we need to try something. Rhodey?” Tony looked at him for the go ahead. Rhodes was silent for a moment, but then nodded subtly.

“Yeah. Macey, send the rest of the squad back. You’ll stay with Stark and I to guide us through, and we’ll fly you out when done, but your men need to be safe,” Rhodes ordered. The troop grabbed their gear and loaded up the truck.

“Friday, switch us to freeze cannons,” Tony held out his arm as the suit shifted around him.

Spider-Man came to a stop in the center of the intersection, noting that the lights had all switched into blinking emergency signals. Everything was deserted and eerily silent. A surreal, apocalyptic scene that was too close to Titan for comfort. “Karen, thermal scan?”

“Right away, Peter.” The scan activated, and Peter spotted a lifeform inside one of the buildings. He didn’t have much time. In the small music store, Spider-Man easily found the young boy. The little blond-haired kid’s eyes widened when he saw him.

“Ahh!” The child backpedaled but ended up tripping over the leg of a music stand. Peter bit his lip. They didn’t have time for this.

“Whoa, Whoa, Whoa. I’m just a normal guy,” Peter assured him, putting his hands up to show he meant no harm.

“I want my mommy!” The kid cried. Spider-Man took a step closer, but the resulting whimper made him stop.

“I know where she is, okay? But I need you to trust me. Can you do that?” Peter asked. He knelt down to get on his level. “What’s your name?”

“It- It’s Zack.”

Rhodes checked his display to see they had little progress. “Tony, we’re still at 170 Kelvin. We only have a minute forty seconds to go.”

“No. We can do this,” Iron Man said defiantly. Shawna eyed him, knowing deep down that this wouldn’t be successful.

“This won’t work. We need to get clear of the area,” Shawna chimed in. Tony shook his head. No. He would  _not_  let this bomb go off.

“Tony,” War Machine lowered his ice cannon. “We need to go. Come on!”

“Fine,” Tony snarled, despite knowing Rhodey was right. War Machine picked up Shawna and jetted towards the perimeter.

“Okay, Zack. Let’s get you to your mom,” Spider-Man held out a hand. To his dismay, Zack recoiled away from him.

“Hey kid,” Mr. Stark popped up on his heads up display. “We couldn’t stop it. The bomb’s going off in about a minute. Everyone’s clear, right?” Peter looked outside to see how close he was to the center. If Stark came back for him, they wouldn’t make it out again.

“Yeah. Yeah. We’re all clear here. Uh, What kind of bomb?” Spider-Man asked.

“Gas bomb,” Tony reported. Spider-Man nodded, understanding that running would work better than trying to take cover.

“Got it. I’m kinda busy though, so I’m gonna call you back in a bit, Okay?” Peter said quickly.

“Wait, are-“ Karen hung up on Tony before he could finish the sentence. Spider-Man knew how far in he was. He could get out, but some of the blast might catch him. He could probably breathe the toxins, but the kid…

“I’m going to take you to your mom, Okay?” Spider-Man promised. He shot the security camera with webbing before pulling off his mask. To his relief, the kid seemed a little calmer upon realizing he was human. “I’m just a normal guy, see? Do you wanna wear the mask? It’ll make you brave.” Zack nodded and grabbed the mask with shaking hands. Good. It would filter his air. As soon as it was on, Peter reached out.

“Okay. We gotta go quickly, Zack. Hold onto me tightly and do  _not_  let go.” Ignoring the blond’s reluctance nkw, Peter quickly picked him up, and ran outside. He raced down the street.

It had definitely been a minute, and Spider-Man hadn’t heard anything. Yet, his spider-sense was warning him of  _something_. He glanced over his shoulder and saw what it was. A green, almost puke-colored gas was rapidly catching up. Horrified, Spider-Man realized that based on the density and volume of the substance, it was going to engulf them.

‘ _Come on, Spider-Man.’_ He thought to himself as he swept down the street, reaching out as far as his webs would let him to gain velocity. He started to see the translucent gas at the edges of his vision and took a deep breath to hold as it surrounded them.

He couldn’t hold his breath for long. As his next web went taut, Peter couldn’t help but gasp for air. The burning in his throat was immediate. Spider-Man clutched Zack tighter to his chest, relying on memory to navigate the street through his now hazy vision. ‘ _Come on. Come on.’_

Black spots swarmed around his vision, making the buildings harder and harder to see. His brain buzzed, and he noticed it was becoming harder and harder to breathe. Just keep moving. Make it through. After what felt like forever, the gas seemed to be thinning out. When Peter felt he was as far from the cloud as he could make it, he aimed for a flat rooftop. He tried to set down gently, but he was barely conscious, so sticking the landing wasn’t his top priority.

Spider-Man landed roughly on the roof, letting go of the kid as soon as he felt his knees hit the ground. He caught himself with his hands, coughing violently. Peter let himself fall onto his side, straining to stay awake. He heaved in the much-needed oxygen and coughed out the toxins, letting his adrenaline and healing factor work it out. After a few minutes, his body finally started to calm down.

The teenager slowly opened his eyes, annoyed by how bright the sun was. Zack was sitting on the ground in front of him, mask still on. Peter groaned, pushing himself up. He saw specks of blood on the ground from how violently he’d been hacking up a storm. Wonderful. Thank god for his regeneration factor, or he’d probably be dead. His head was not loving this. The sooner he got this kid taken care of, the sooner he could go home and collapse on the couch.

“Okay,” Peter stopped to cough for a moment. “Mask? Then I’ll take you to your Mom.” Zack slowly took the mask off and handed it to him. The little boy looked terrified still, but he seemed okay otherwise. Spider-Man forced himself to stand, his vision spinning for a brief moment.

“Let’s go, Zack,” Peter picked him up again and swung back to where his mother had been. She gasped in delight as her son crashed into her. Spider-Man tried to respond positively to the grateful mother, but he could only summon the energy to say “You’re welcome” before he excused himself to get home.

Peter climbed through his window and collapsed onto his bed. He pulled the mask off again. Okay. Now sounded like a fantastic time for a nice, super-healing nap. He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more content and/or to stay up to date on my writings, my tumblr is adorkablesuperhero. I tend to post more things there and add new chapters on tumblr first.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first paragraphs of this look similar to the post I mentioned in the last chapter, but diverge relatively quickly.

Tony was concerned from the first cough. His head swiveled in the direction of the kid doing homework on the couch. “Pete, you okay?”

“What?” Peter looked at him briefly before averting his gaze. “Yeah, I’m fine, Mr.Stark.” He refocused on his math work. Tony raised an eyebrow but tried not to let his worry get out of hand. He ignored the second cough, then that coughing fit. When the kid erupted into a fourth coughing fit, Tony opened the floodgates. He marched over to the teenager.

“Okay, Peter. What’s up? Are you sick?” Peter wasn’t able to stop him before a pair of lips was on his forehead. “Ooh. You’re a little warm, kid. Friday?” Peter blinked in astonishment as Stark’s glasses scanned him for injuries.

“Mr. Stark. You don’t have to-“

“Shh,” Tony gently felt his lymph nodes for any swelling.

“His temperature is 101. However, that is normal for an enhanced body temperature. Lungs show a light film in the lungs, most likely from some sort of gaseous toxin,” Friday reported. Tony’s eyes widened.

“Peter-“ Stark started.

“I’m okay! It’s just a cough,” Peter insisted, pulling away from him. Tony watched him, his brain racing through the possibilities. Please, please, let this not be because of the terrorist attack over the weekend.

“Peter,” Mr. Stark said firmly. “What did you breathe in? Are you smoking? doing drugs?”

“No! I’m not doing drugs,” Peter said quickly.

“Then how?” Tony pushed. Peter bit his lip. He was so busted.

“I… um…”

“Spit it out.”

“I breathed in some of the gas on Saturday,” Peter said, feeling guilt wash over him as Tony looked like he’d been hit with a wall of bricks.

“I… Was the suit not working? I know I put a filter in it. How much did you breathe in?! Why didn’t you tell me?! Are you getting better or worse?” Tony’s rapid-fire questions commenced, and Peter didn’t know where to start. He just waited until his mentor stopped rambling and got a hold of himself. “Just… start from the beginning.”

“Look, the suit is fine. I took off the mask,” He admitted, holding his hands out to calm the incoming explosion.

“What did you just say?” He demanded. Peter shrunk back.

“I took it off,” He repeated timidly. “I checked the perimeter like you said, but a lady said she got separated from her kid in the chaos, so I went back in.”

“After the device went off?” Tony asked in frustration.

“No. I was there before, but I didn’t know how long was left.”

“I told you there was a minute. You said you were clear!” Stark argued. Peter looked at the floor.

“I didn’t want you to come back. I thought you wouldn’t make it back out if you came for me. The world needs you more than me.” Tony scoffed at him, running a hand through his hair. Why were teenagers so stupid and damn heroic?

“I will always come back for you, Peter. Just… why in hell did you take off the damn mask?”

“I knew we might not beat it out… And I figured we didn’t know what the gas was, but my metabolism was more likely to survive it, so I told the kid to wear the mask, and I kinda-“ Peter coughed at the thought. “I breathed in some of the chemicals. I’ve had a bit of a cough since, but I think it’s fine.” Tony frowned. He wasn’t mad at Peter, just worried. It was the right thing to do, but he wasn’t happy that Peter had gotten hurt doing it. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Just-,” Stark huffed in frustration. “Has it been getting better?”

“Uh… I mean, the cough hasn’t really gone away, but I haven’t really been sleeping a lot, so it might just be that?” Peter offered. “I’m just assuming it’ll go away in a week or so.”

“Friday?” Tony asked quietly.

“Sirs,” Friday started. “The poison is damaging his cells at a rate almost equivalent to how fast his immune system can heal them. However, the slight disparity means that the lymphocytes will ultimately slow, but not stop the toxoid.” Everything around Tony seemed to swirl. The man felt like he’d been stabbed in the chest, and he leaned against the armrest for support before sinking onto the couch.

“Wait,” Peter said. “What does that mean? Tony?” Tony grabbed his shaking left hand with the other hand, trying to stabilize it. No. No, no, no.

“How long?” Tony Stark asked, ignoring the teenager in increasing stages of panic.

“By my estimates, Peter Parker has approximately 67 days before he perishes.” Peter felt his chest tightening, and he sat down next to Tony. It was just a cough…

“Tony,” Peter whimpered. “I’m going to die?” Tony didn’t respond at first, struggling not to rock back and forth like a child. He only came back to his senses when he heard the heaving. Peter was hyperventilating, tears streaming down his face. Shoulders shook with silent sobs as the realization hit Peter. Tony quickly turned and hugged him tightly, knowing that helped calm him. He buried his head into his mentor’s shoulder, quivering. “I don’t want to die!”

“No,” Tony shook his head. He rubbed his boy’s back, trying to fight through his own panic to soothe Peter’s. “You are  _not_ going to die. We’ll fix this. We’ll fix  _you_.”

“I don’t… I can’t… I-“ Peter stammered between breaths. The aggravation caused him to start coughing again.

“I promise, kid. You’ll be okay,” Tony ran his fingers through the brown hair and gently rocked him back and forth. However, as his movements became gentler, his face hardened. No matter what it took, he was going to find the cure for this.

* * *

 

**66 Days Remaining**

“Peter, you might want to leave the room,” Stephen said carefully. Peter was sitting on one of the cool metal tables, drumming his fingers quietly to dispel anxious energy.

“If this is about me, I have a right to be here,” Peter said firmly.

“If you say so, kid,” Bruce acknowledged. Doctor Strange stepped a little closer to Peter, having more experience with terminal diagnosis than he would’ve liked.

“Well?” Tony asked.

“What Friday said was… correct,” Doctor Strange paused to make sure Peter wasn’t having a freakout. He looked upset, but okay. “This poison is ridiculously complex, and unfortunately, it’s winning.”

“But his metabolism can’t beat it?” Tony demanded, tossing his hands up in the air. “He’s got freaking superpowers! You mean to tell me some stupid gas is gonna take him out?!” Stephen eyed Stark, a little surprised at the outburst.

“Tony!” Bruce barked. “Do not take your anger out on us. You know as well as we do: every single living thing in the contaminated zone died. By their early estimates, the death was instantaneous. Peter shouldn’t even be alive!” Tony frowned, knowing that Banner was right.

“And there’s no antidote?” Peter asked quietly, staring down at the scar on his hand from the spider bite.

“No one’s ever lived long enough for scientists to make one,” Doctor Strange admitted. “I called the CDC, and they’ve been working with the samples we got them from the attack, but progress is slow.”

“So, I’m pretty much screwed,” Peter said dejectedly.

“It would take a team of scientists weeks to unwrap this molecular code, much less find a way to reverse it,” Bruce acknowledged. Peter bit his lip nervously, thinking about Aunt May. This would kill her.

“No,” Tony said in denial, racking his brain for ideas. “There’s always a way. What about the terrorists? If they developed it, they must know how to cure it, right?”

“We can’t just go chasing after terrorists,” Bruce protested.

“Why not?! I’ve done it before. Anyone remember the Mandarin?” Tony argued. Peter’s heart began to beat faster again, and his eyes darted around the room anxiously. Bruce and Tony were busy glaring at each other, but Stephen noticed and hesitantly set a hand on the teenager’s back to comfort him.

“You can’t just do whatever you want anymore, Tony. From what you told me, the Sokovia Accords-“

“The Sokovia-“ Tony couldn’t even finish the sentence. “Screw that. This is more important!”

“Wasn’t this what Steve was concerned about? Not being able to act when we needed to?” Bruce questioned, trying to recall the events described to him after his absence.

“Don’t you dare bring Steve into this!” Tony snarled. He pointed a finger towards the scientist, as if he were about to say something else, but restricted himself and turned to the other two Avengers.

“I can talk the UN into this. I promise you, Peter.” Tony said, despite not even being able to look the kid in the eyes.

“You can try, but what then? Do we have him spend the remainder of his life on a wild goose chase on the slim chance they have what we need?!” Bruce hissed. “He should go out and live his life while he still can!” Peter swallowed hard, remembering that fact that he hadn’t even finished junior year yet. He wouldn’t ever get to go to his senior prom. Or graduate with Ned or Michelle. He wouldn’t even get into college, he realized with increasing panic.

“If there is even a slimmer of a chance that we can fix him, I’ll be damned if we don’t go after it with everything we got, Banner! I don’t care what I have to do.”

“What, do you want to end up on the run, like Steve?” Bruce demanded. Tony stepped forward, almost as if moving to hit him. Bruce glared at him, feeling the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

“I told you not to mention him,” Tony growled. Bruce breathed deeply, struggling to keep the Hulk from rearing his ugly head.

“Why? Have any regrets?” He challenged, moving closer to get into the billionaire’s face. Bruce had missed the Accords and hadn’t really been happy about being forced to sign something that Ross- of all people- advocated.

“GUYS!” Stephen interrupted. He was rubbing small circles on Peter’s back, desperately hoping he wouldn’t start crying, but his breathing was heading in that direction. “You’re freaking Peter out. This is his life, so it’s his decision. I know you mean well, but when family and friends try to push someone in a direction they don’t want to go, it never ends well. Trust me, I’ve seen it enough times to know.” Peter looked at Stephen thankfully, forcing himself to take a deep breath. Tony crossed his arms, still peeved at Bruce, but reminding himself constantly that Peter was the priority here.

“What do you want to do then?” Bruce asked him. Peter was quiet for a minute.

“Well, uh, you both make good points. But I agree with Tony… If we have a chance to stop this, I want to go after it. I’m not going to just roll over and die.” Peter’s voice cracked on the word ‘die’, feeling the weight of the situation nauseating his insides again. He clasped a hand over his mouth, trying to keep it down. Strange telekinetically zoomed a trashcan to his hand, passing it to Peter to vomit into.

“Then we will,” Stephen agreed. “Tony will get to the UN, and we’ll present our case, right?”

“Right,” Tony promised, clasping Peter’s shoulder and finally looking him in the eyes. “I’ll talk them into it.”

“Thanks,” Peter coughed, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “But Tony. Please… don’t tell Aunt May. I’ll tell her when I’m ready.” Tony raised his eyebrows, remembering his promise to the boy’s Aunt to not keep any more secrets.

“If we find the guys who did this, I won’t tell her. And we will. No way will the UN say no to this,” Tony vowed. He would make sure they didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more content and/or to stay up to date on my writings, my tumblr is adorkablesuperhero. I tend to post more things there and add new chapters on tumblr first.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more Tony-centric, but will be more Peter in later chapters. Honestly more of a chapter progressing the story, and chapter 4 or 5 will have some good action. Also open to constructive criticism.

**64 Days Remaining**

“Thank you for meeting us on such short notice,” Rhodes held out his hand for a handshake but was ignored. The court-martial summons and subsequent pardon hadn’t really gone over well between them.

“Yeah,” Thaddeus Ross crossed his arms and eyed the pair suspiciously. “You said it was urgent.”

“Yes,” Tony Stark wasted no time in getting into it. “The terrorist attack on New York. We’re going after the baddies, but I don’t really want to get arrested, so you’re going to clear it for us.” Ross looked a little bewildered at the decisive, almost commanding tone, but quickly recovered.

“Tony, with all due respect… that’s not how this works. You can’t just come in here and demand that the UN approves something. This kind of thing takes time. The UN has it under control, and they will call the Avengers if and only if they are needed.”

“We’re able to help though. The Avengers have some of the brightest minds and strongest resources. It’s detrimental to sideline us at every cost,” Rhodes argued.

“It doesn’t matter if you can help or not. An action by the United Nation is seen as a very-”

“These weapons are crazy dangerous. And I’ll be damned to just sit by and do nothing while these terrorists attack innocent people,” Tony interrupted. “We can do something, so we will.”

“I seem to remember your signature on those papers, Stark,” Ross studied him. Cold. Calculating. “Having second thoughts? There’s been a dozen terrorist organizations that we’ve dealt with. Why now? What’s your endgame?” This was taking too long. Tony breathed out through his nose, his body automatically closing the gap between them. Tight, calloused hands gripped the secretary’s shoulders.

“Listen here, Thaddeus,” Iron Man snarled. “It doesn’t matter what the end game is. What matters is that you get us the clearance before I-”

“TONY,” Rhodes snapped, ripping the billionaire away from him. Tony put his hands up in surrender but still glared at the diplomat over his friend’s shoulders. “What the hell is with you?” Rhodey whispered.

“You can’t just attack him like that,” Rhodes said in a hushed tone. However, Tony didn’t speak in return. When their eyes met, James understood what was going on. He’d seen that look of mixed anxiety and rage in Stark’s eyes more times than he would’ve liked. Rhodey sighed and sent him a look promising to take care of it. “Tony, go step outside for a moment and get some air.” Reluctantly, Tony obeyed, his scrutinizing eyes still filled with distrust for Ross.

After four minutes and 37 seconds that took an hour, the door to the meeting room eased open. Rhodes and Ross stepped out, and Rhodey nudged the secretary slightly. The man cleared his throat. “I’ll- um- I’ll see what I can do Tony. I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll try my best, okay?” He held a hand out to shake. Stark grabbed his hand, but gripped a little harder than necessary as he shook it. Ross opened his mouth as if to say something else, but decided against it. He released Tony’s hand and promptly left the room, with Iron Man watching him the whole way.

“What did you tell him?” Tony faced him the instant the door closed.

“I told him the truth. I told him that an Avenger who helped in a recent battle has an injury, and that this group is our best lead on fixing them.”

“Did you name who?” Tony asked, afraid to hear the answer.

“No. And he promised to keep our motives a secret.”

“Did you say anything else?” Rhodes smirked and clapped Tony’s shoulder.

“Well, I gave a bs speech about how power comes with responsibility and the world wanted the Avengers to form to take on big tasks like this and how the UN is wasting our potential. You know that kind of stuff goes a long way, and it gives him some ideas on what to say to the United Nations Panel.”

* * *

**61 Days Remaining**

Peter rubbed his eyes tiredly as he leaned away from the microscope. He swiveled his chair around a little. “Any progress, guys?”

Bruce flicked the switch to the silent drill he’d been using. Another drill bit decimated, and no impact on his sample. “No, this metal is ridiculously strong.”

“Like, vibranium strong?” Peter curiously walked over to Banner’s station. He  _really_  needed to stretch his legs. The four scientists had been cooped up in the Avengers lab the whole day with nothing but research and some pizzas. Granted, they had been meat lovers’- Peter’s favorite- but it hadn’t really brightened the mood.

“Not quite, but it’s still stronger than any other metals we know of,” Bruce reported. Peter coughed quietly and drained his umpteenth water bottle of the day. Damn dry throat. He hadn’t felt properly hydrated in two days.

“Anything on your end, Stephen?” Tony questioned of the wizard who had been pouring hours into research on the toxic chemical.

“It’s definitely a complex compound, but I haven’t come up with any ideas to figure out the makeup yet,” Strange admitted quietly. He turned his head to avoid facing the disappointment in the boy’s eyes. Peter frowned and perched on one of the railings. Tony watched as he flipped into a handstand, balancing solidly in said position. It wasn’t really easy to keep up, but Peter felt he might burst if he didn’t send this anxious energy somewhere.

“Well we’ve got to find something, right?” Tony urged. “When we get the go-ahead, we’ll need a lead to follow up on. We’ve some metal samples and chemical samples. The world’s four smartest avengers can solve a simple terrorist attack.” Bruce gave his little shrug and facial expression that meant he was stumped, electing not to point out the obvious complexity of their opponents. It wouldn’t do anything but aggravate them, and he always avoided anger where possible.

“What about the metal?” Peter still sustained his handstand, core muscles working to keep him upright. “It’s strong like vibranium, but not quite. It’s probably an alloy.”  Bruce raised his eyebrows and gave Peter a once-over. How old was he again?

“That actually makes sense. Steel is what we use to contain gas, but it wouldn’t be strong enough to hold that much pressure. The vibranium would help it, but those aren’t easy metals to blend. Any ideas on how?” Bruce looked at Tony.

“You’d need a pretty powerful laser to melt that much vibranium. There are only a few models out on the market that fit the requirements. We can get the sales records and cross-reference it with vibranium exports from Wakanda.” Tony nearly stumbled on the word ‘reference’, pretending to not to notice how a coughing fit forced Peter to abandon his headstand. The lithe mutant landed on his feet, but it was a bit of a rough impact. Peter attempted to play it off as intentional with a dorky grin and bow. No one trusted themselves enough to give him a reaction.

“It’s a start,” Strange agreed, feeling the urge to pitch in despite obviously being out of his jurisdiction. He’d analyzed the sample, but the compound looked like a ball pit of atoms. Had he still been a medical surgeon, this is definitively one of the cases he would’ve rejected as a lost cause..

“We can look, but even if we find something, are you sure that we’ll get the clearance to-” Bruce paused when Tony sent him a warning look. No one spoke for a long moment, and the only movement was Peter swievling his head between the two of them in confusion. The man begrudgingly revised his direction. “To see all the exports from those companies?” It fell silent in the room. Doctor Strange felt out of his territory with all these metals, Bruce eyed Tony scrutinizingly, and Tony anxiously tinkered with a gadget on his desk. The obvious tension was broken when Peter attempted to stifle another cough. It seemed to snap the group out of their daze.

“I’m going to grab a drink,” Tony pointed around the room. “Anyone else? Not you, Pete.”

“I’ll come with you,” Bruce quickly got up to follow him out. In the glistening white kitchen, he watched Tony grab a dark bottle from the cabinet, and then Tony poured himself a glass of scotch. The billionaire didn’t bother with a second glass, as he knew Banner didn’t drink when he was stressed.

“What are you doing, Tony?” Bruce asked. Tony merely glanced at him before putting on his facade.

“What do you mean?” Tony held an air of innocence, but both men knew it was fake. Bruce felt the annoyance bubblinbg inside him.

“You can’t keep hiding stuff from him. The kid is dying. The least you can do is be honest.” Bruce splayed his hands out on the counter in exasperation. Tony downed his scotch in one go, and pointed at Banner, glass still in hand.

“I’ll tell him what he needs to know. No point in worrying him with what-if’s.”

“I respect that, but he’s obviously bright, and sooner or later, he’s going to realize you’re holding out on him,” Bruce gestured towards the lab. “What if the UN says no, huh? What are you going to do then? This whole ‘it just takes a few days’ won’t last forever.” Stark set the glass down roughly.

“They won’t say no.” Stark was already leaving the room before Bruce could respond. The man huffed, debating if he should just tell the kid himself.

“Tony. I know you want to protect him, but-” Bruce wasn’t ready to end the conversation as they arrived in the lab, but dropped it when he saw the headline. Stephen and Peter had turned on the television and everything had defaulted to the emergency feed.

“Unfolding right now in London is a scene eerily similar to the recent events in New York. Police are demanding that citizens evacuate as they investigate what looks to be another gas bomb. The still unclaimed attack in New York City this month released a poison with unprecedented, catastrophic strength. If you are anywhere near London, it is imperative that you leave the city immediately. The world has one question: Just who are these mysterious assailants?”

“Well… this might be an issue.” While the reporters struggled to communicate a death toll, the heroes looked at one another with grave faces. Almost as if on cue, the phone rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more content and/or to stay up to date on my writings, my tumblr is adorkablesuperhero. I tend to post more things there and add new chapters on tumblr first.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Countries mentioned in this chapter were randomly chosen and are not indicative of any kind of political beliefs.

**58 Days Remaining**

Tony stared tiredly at the hologram. “I don’t get it. They always leave some kind of clue.”

“I think we’re on the right track, Mr.Stark. None of these addresses line up, but something’s got to.” Peter reached out and tapped a couple controls, toggling through different views. He pulled up a map of the locations and studied it.

“Well, we got our clearance, but with the attack in Munich yesterday, the pressure’s really on.” Tony might’ve been desperate to get the go-ahead from the Sokovia Accord Panel, but now they demanded action. He watched Peter, checking for any signs of increasing sickness. He’d been coughing periodically, but seemed okay otherwise. The teenager focused intently on the map.

“Look here,” He pointed to a few dots. “These three are the only machine exports on the water. The rest are inland.” Tony saw where this was going.

“So, they might be ports and not the final destinations,” Tony finished for him. Friday hacked the port authority records to all of them and added the points to the map. Still, none of them lined up.

“They must’ve gotten the shipment through without logging it,” Peter bit his lip. “We’ve got ports in India, Sokovia, France, and Somalia. Can we look to see if the number of cargo containers in and out is equivalent?”

“It may take a while, Mr.Parker, but it is possible,” Friday reported. “Which port would you prefer we start with?”

“Whoever these people are, they need a facility to be building this stuff. There’s got to be enough space to hide,” Tony pointed out. Peter agreed, thinking back to what he’d learned about the geography of the world. Sokovia and France were too civilized for terrorists to be that under the radar, but India and Somalia might have enough cover to conceal a base. Considering that Somalia would be easier to audit, Peter went for that one first.

“Try Somalia.”

“Right away, sirs. It may be a few minutes.” Friday confirmed, shutting down its holograms to allocate more computing power. Tony looked at Peter again, giving the kid a good once-over.

“What?” Peter turned to face him, a slight hint of annoyance in his features. Lately, he could always feel Mr.Stark’s eyes boring into him, scrutinizing, judging.

“Nothing,” Tony quickly turned away, not wanting to make Peter more uncomfortable. He was going through enough.

“You don’t have to do that. I notice it, y’know,” Peter spoke quietly and hesitantly, trying to choose the right words. His foot tapped anxiously on the ground. “I can tell that you’re afraid to speak to me. Mr.Banner and Doctor Strange, as well. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me…” Tony Stark was silent, struggling to decide on the right response.

“We just want to make sure you’re okay, Pete.” Peter’s face scrunched up in frustration.

“I know you’re all worried, but I’m still me! Talk to me while I’m dying like you would talk to me if I wasn’t,” He huffed. Peter waited for a response, but none came. Why couldn’t anything with Tony ever be easy? “We’re going to stop this. It’s just another mission. Another problem to solve. I’m fine… or at least I will be. It’s just frustrating, y’know? I’m still the same ol’ Peter Parker, and I don’t want you to treat me differently just because I’m sick, okay?”

“Okay,” Tony nodded automatically, feeling the guilt starting to prickle at his mind. Peter felt disappointment sinking into his stomach and quietly excused himself to grab some water. After calming down with some much-needed memes, he padded back into the room. Friday had finished the Somalia audit, and Tony was studying the results.

“Field trip?” Peter asked.

“Field trip.”

* * *

**54 Days Remaining**

Peter wasn’t hiding… He was just avoiding people. When they’d said they were going to Somalia to follow up on their lead, none of the Avengers expected the panel to insist that they take a group of elite, mixed-nationality soldiers with them. Iron Man argued that the squad would only get in the way, but the United Nations warned that it would heighten security and decrease the risk of civilian casualties. After all, another weekend was inbound, so the risk of another attack heightened until the world either stopped the terrorists or figured out how to disarm the gas bombs. Many city centers received notices to temporarily shut down for the weekend.

Anyway, Spider-Man knew they were trying their best to exercise professional courtesy, but his spider-sense consistently nagged at him, letting him know that some of the soldiers couldn’t hold in their amazed stares that they were working with  _the_  Avengers. Relatable, but many of them were lowkey intimidating, so he’d found a nice quiet corner to do his homework. Well, it was normally quiet, but the peace was intermittently broken by coughing fits. He sensed someone coming and looked up from his tablet.

“We’re landing in 10. It’s time to strap in,” Clint said. Hawkeye hadn’t quite been forgiven for everything that happened in Germany, but with Black Widow gone, the panel decided to start easing him off of his house arrest in exchange for his espionage experience. Barton had to stay within 50 feet of his handler at all times, but he was here, and Peter found himself surprisingly grateful for that fact. There was a sense of warmth and comfort that just emanated from the family man. Maybe it was just the fact that he had kids, but the way Mr.Barton held himself reminded Peter of Uncle Ben in a way. Giving a small smile, the teenager stretched before tucking his tablet away and securing it. The two returned to the main area of the cabin and buckled in.

“How far away are we?” Spider-Man called to Tony, who was sitting across the way from him. Since the mufflers had turned off for the landing process, Tony hadn’t quite heard what he’d said.

“What?!”

“I said… ‘How far away are we?’” Peter’s voice cracked on the word ‘we’, causing his face to go beet-red. He coughed nervously to clear his throat. “From the docks?”

“Maybe a 30 minute drive from the hanger!” Tony yelled. Spider-Man leaned back into his seat, fighting back another urge to cough. It worked for a couple minutes, but he ultimately gave in.

“Got a bit of a cold there?” The middle-aged woman to his right had a sweet voice with a face to match. Agent Norris, her badge said. She gave him an innocent face of concern.

“Uh… yeah. Something like that,” Peter forced a smile, but then pretended to be distracted by his web shooters. He checked every designated compartment- for what had to be the fifth time this flight- to ensure his web fluid was all accounted for.

When the plane landed, they promptly unloaded their gear and locked their extra belongings in the designated hanger. When everyone had finished, the team gathered around for a mission briefing. The plan was fairly straightforward. As of right now, it was a simple reconnaissance mission. Group Alpha would secure the perimeter, and when the coast was clear, Group Beta- consisting of Peter, Clint, and three soldiers- would round up employees and distract any authorities not in the local police. Since they had their warrants, Iron Man would use the commotion as cover to sneak into the port authority office and clone the hard drive.

Things were quiet on the way over, with the only sound being the gentle purr of the truck. They stopped 500 yards away from the port entrance to let Alpha out, and, 100 yards away, they shut off the truck and piled out. Spider-Man and Iron Man took the high ground while Hawkeye and the others slipped through the fence. Once he reached a good vantage, Karen activated Spider-Man’s thermal vision to show him where all the lackeys were. They probably weren’t all guilty, but they couldn’t have anyone sounding the alarm. Peter found someone alone and swung over.

“Nice night out, isn’t it?” Spider-Man quipped. As the man turned to face him, he shot a web at him, sticking the man to a shipping container. Before the worker could call out, a smaller one covered his mouth. Peter stepped close enough to make sure the man could still breathe. “Sorry! It’ll wear off in a couple hours, I swear!”

The others similarly took care of the workers, albeit a bit more aggressively. Multiple men now lay electrocuted and ensnared in wires at the hands of Iron Man, and the rest of the team performed several silent takedowns. With everyone outside secured, Peter landed as quietly as possible on the roof to the main office. He crawled onto the side of the building and peered in through the window. “Maybe a dozen people, but no one’s armed. We’re clear.”

On the count of three, the whole team burst in. Spider-Man dove through the window, executing a perfect flip to land on a desk. He fired off splitter webs, attaching people to their desks, keyboards, and phones. At the same time, the agents kicked the door in and rushed those closest to them, pinning confused workers to the ground and handcuffing them. Peter gratefully gave in to the cough he’d been holding in that entire stealth sequence, letting the sound of the chaos drown it out. When everyone seemed secure, Peter went to a door that looked all official, like it might be the boss’s office.

“This door’s locked,” He said, jiggling the handle. Hawkeye came over, and gently nudged Spider-Man to the side. He attached a device that slowly used a laser to cut around the lock.

“Whoa, that is hella cool!” Peter grinned, curiously eyeing the device. Maybe he could figure out how it worked. Hawkeye moved on to searching through papers on a nearby desk, so Spider-Man was alone when it finished. He grabbed the device to play with later and swung the door open.  _Oh._  “Uh, we got a dead guy over here…”

Clint turned around again, quickly joining Peter in the small office. A man who looked to be no less than 30 lay sprawled on the ground. His hair appeared matted due to the blood leaking from his head to create a gruesome puddle on the floor, with not just fluid but bits of brain. A silenced gun rested in his limp hand. Yeesh. Hawkeye crouched down next to him, careful to avoid the puddle. His fingers pressed to the man’s neck.

“Suicide?” Agent O’Malley asked as he entered.

“Maybe. He’s still warm. Probably hasn’t been dead more than an hour.” Hawkeye said.

“Someone knew we were coming,” Iron Man entered the room and glared at the deceased man. They sure as hell wouldn’t be getting any information from him now. He fought the urge to kick the cowardly corpse as he moved around to get to the computer, jamming a device into the USB port with much more force than needed.

“I’m going to go see if they need any help,” Spider-Man was starting to feel suffocated in the crowded office, so he stepped back into the main area. The crew looked through files left out on desks, and Agent Norris was working with a man to ensure all of the workers had no useful information on their missing shipments. The local police would pick them up soon, but it wouldn’t hurt to see if they could be intimidated into spilling secrets beforehand.

“Should I activate enhanced interrogation mode?” Karen asked. Peter sighed and shook his head.

“No thanks, Karen.”

* * *

The group returned to sleep in the hanger with a solemn mood. Tony ran a hand through his hair. “There’s nothing useful here. Just two memos pertaining to the shipments we’re looking for, and neither of them say anything about buyers, sellers, or contents.” He moved out of the way to let a fresh set of eyes look at the data.

“There’s got to be something,” Peter said defiantly, scrolling through everything they’d downloaded. He bit his lip as he skimmed countless spreadsheets, none of it seeming to be of any interest. They hadn’t come all this way for nothing.

“I think all our intel died with the boss,” Tony clenched and unclenched his left hand nervously.

“Something may come from the other workers,” Clint suggested, getting a couple nods of agreement from the analysts they’d brought along. If anything, they knew they were on the right track.

“Don’t be pessimistic. Maybe we can go back and investigate the scene,” Peter chimed in, flashing a smile at Tony. He wasn’t giving up hope just yet. Almost as if on cue, Peter felt that obnoxious itch in his throat and started coughing. After he’d stopped, Tony considered the teenager for a moment.

“Don’t be naive,” Tony retorted. Peter blinked. What? His words seemed to hold a subtle snarl to them, as if the man was angry at him. He opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t find the words. Peter was too confused by the sudden change in tone. Clint also gave the man a skeptical look. Something else was going on here, but he didn’t know what it was. Not yet at least. Tony inched closer to Peter, debating if he should say it.

“Um…” Clint attempted to break the tension rising between them. Tony ignored him, but a couple of their teammates got the hint and drifted away to give the heroes some space.

“Maybe you should go home,” Tony said, venom dripping off the words that left his mouth. Peter felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

“What?” What did he do wrong? He hadn’t messed anything up on that mission, had he? “Why?!”

“It’s Saturday night. You have school on Monday,” It was a ridiculous excuse. Peter looked at him in disbelief.

“Hell no!” He shook his head defiantly. How could Mr.Stark even suggest that?

“You need to do well in school,” Tony tried. It wasn’t working. All the excuses did were piss the teenager off. Mr.Stark was babying him again.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m dead,” Peter snarled. Clint looked nervously between the two of them. Should he say something or…? “You promised to stop treating me like this!”

“No. I told you-” Tony cut himself off, trying to find another excuse. “Go home, or I’m going to tell Aunt May that-” Peter had had enough.

“Bullshit! You always use that excuse. Go ahead! Tell her for all I care! Have fun telling her that I’m dying and you won’t let me fight for myself! At least she’ll care!” Peter yelled, his voice loud enough to echo around the entire room. At this point, all other conversation in the hanger had stopped, every head turned in their direction. Peter clenched his eyes shut, trying to calm down. He felt each pair of eyes boring into him. Screw this. He started towards the door of the hanger.

“Where are you going?” Tony asked, astonished.

“Out.” Peter pulled his mask back on to conceal the anger in his eyes.

“No. We’re in a foreign country!” He protested.

“Try and stop me,” Spider-Man challenged. He didn’t look back. Mr.Stark started moving to follow him, but Clint blocked him.

“Let him go, Tony. He can take care of himself.”

“Fucking teenagers,” Stark muttered.

“Karen, disable my tracker.” Peter found himself annoyed by the lack of trees and tall buildings, having to more or less burn off energy by parkouring as he headed into the city. He eventually found their equivalent of downtown and shot a web, catapulting himself up to the top of what was probably a hotel. Spider-Man stood uncomfortably on the roof, still teeming with anxious and angry energy. He punched the wall to the staircase in frustration but immediately felt guilty when he saw he’d left a sizeable dent. Why did he mess everything up? Peter didn’t even have a pen to leave an apology note.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, despite knowing no one would hear. Spider-Man sat on the edge of the roof and hung his feet over the side. Peter was terrified. He knew Mr.Stark just wanted to protect him, but he felt powerless right now, and being Spider-man was the one thing letting feel in control, even if just a little. And even if Peter Parker did return to Midtown High, he wouldn’t be able to focus knowing that he could be helping out here.

As for Aunt May, he’d have to tell her about his condition sooner or later. The ‘it’s just a cold’ bit worked at first, but Aunt May mentioned the other day that he’d been acting differently and she didn’t think he was getting better. Peter stalled, promising to talk to Mr.Banner, but he knew everything would likely come to light when he came home. He just hoped he could tell her they had a solution. This mission was his only shot at making things right again.

Despite being lost in thought, his spider-sense was still active. Active enough to tell him something was coming. Spider-Man tensed and rolled backward, away from the ledge. The dart barely missed him as he moved. Where did that come from? Getting in a defensive stance, Parker looked around to see four dark-clad people standing on the roof with him. They looked like assassins right out of a sci-fi movie.  _Shit._  “Uh…hey guys, what’s shakin’?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more content and/or to stay up to date on my writings, my tumblr is adorkablesuperhero. I tend to post more things there and add new chapters on tumblr first.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, admittedly. you guys got a bonus here. This chapter came out way longer than I intended, but I was very attached to keeping all the original scenes in this chapter. Also, despite picking up where the last chapter ended, it is after midnight, so the day changed.

**53 Days Remaining**

So here he was. Standing on the roof of some hotel in a foreign country with four probably-assassins with him. Not the best day ever. He stood on edge, doing his best to get an idea of who they were before they attacked again. All of them wore of combination of armor and kevlar that was blue grey. There was a buff bozo, whose bald head shined as obnoxiously as the metal gloves he wore- like brass knuckles on steroids. The one female looked like a model who just couldn’t get a good photo shoot. Her lips were a big apple red. Before he could get a solid look at the other two mercenaries, blond lady lunged at him bearing gloves with steel claws for fingers.

Spider-Man flipped out of the way, jumping onto the roof of the staircase down. As he flew, he glued the bozo’s feet to the floor with a web. Blond lady moved after him, sticking a claw into the wall to climb up to his perch. The back of his neck tingled, and Peter turned to see a completely masked guy aiming some sort of weapon at him as it charged up with an eerie blue light. Not good.

“That blond hair isn’t making you any smarter, lady,” Spider-Man webbed the claw to the wall before moving again. “Karen, taser web!” He shot the electrified web at the man’s gun. The gun stalled, rapidly approaching an overheat. The man threw his gun away, but not far enough before it released an energy blast that knocked him off his feet. Spider-Man landed in front of the last guy- Axe Man. His armor differed slightly, intermingled with chainmail to protect himself from his own weapon. 

“I’m going to split you into tiny little pieces!”  Axe Man jeered. Peter threw his hands up, catching the upper handle of the axe before the blackened metal cleaved his head in two. Spider-Man dug his feet into the ground; It shocked him to find that Axe Man’s strength rivaled him. If this guy was this strong, Bozo probably had superstrength. As they held their position, Peter noticed a snake insignia on his shoulder. Odd… He couldn't stay here for long. Not just because of the effort, but because this guy  _ reeked _ . Dude probably hadn’t taken a shower in months, and he had this hella intimidating mustache.

“Man, you really need to shave,” He quipped, taking a slight step backward. Spider-Man attached a web to the head of the axe and swung down, sliding between the man’s legs. The web brought the top of the axe with him. The blade narrowly missed Peter’s chest, but the handle of the axe hit where it counts between Paul Bunyan’s legs.  _ Bullseye. _

“Well, wood you look at that?” Peter smirked as the man fell to his knees.

“Insect,” The man who had tried to shoot him earlier snarled. He wore a utility belt with an obscene amount of gadgets. Noted.

“Real creative, Batman,” Spider-Man teased, sweeping the man’s feet out from under him. He flipped himself back up as Gadget Guy hit the ground- right on top of a web grenade. With the man ensnared, Peter pulled off his utility belt and tossed it several feet away from him. Spider-Man felt it coming as Blond Lady charged him from behind, and he leaned to the side, just barely missing the slash of her claws. The woman wore a haughty sneer as she parried with him, her feet seemingly dancing around him. When she swung around him, her foot caught his ankle and threw him off balance. Thank god for spider-sense.

“Did you take ballet or something, lady?” Peter asked. Meanwhile, the Buff Bozo worked his foot out of the webbing and charged. Spider-Man used the woman’s chest as a rebound, kicking her in the chest with both feet and using the momentum to flip over the Bozo’s head. He spun around and attached a splitter web to his shoulders before slingshotting himself to kick Bozo in the back. Honestly, he was kinda surprised the metal gauntlets hadn’t hit him yet- not that he wanted to jinx it. In his peripheral vision, Peter saw the utility belt gliding back to the electric guy. “Really? You had a magnet there? Come on!” His voice cracked slightly, but no one said anything about it.

“You sure quip a lot. Do you need directions back to the circus?” Paul Bunyan teased. The man twirled his axe in an attempt to be intimidating. Spider-Man smirked.

“Yeah. I’m a little lost. Want to come with? They’ve been axe-ing for another pretty majorette like you.” Peter performed a back handspring to evade the swipe that followed.

“I appreciate the compliment,” Axe Man sneered, charging at him again. Spider-Man easily dodged the second attack.

“Y’know… I like you. You’re fun to fight, unlike all your silent friends here,” Peter motioned past him, and his heart sunk. “...who are all back up.” Okay. New plan. Just dodge until they wear themselves out and  _ then _ take them down. Hit only when wide open. Spider-Man did just that, evading but trying to look like he wasn’t. When he landed punches or kicks, they were usually well-timed and effective. In the meantime, Peter threw in occasional quips, but his mouth felt increasingly dry. He hadn’t drunk in a few hours, and his throat was not having it, but a century later, neither side made much progress.

“For assassins, you guys are pretty bad if you can’t even kill a teenager. I-” Spider-Man cut himself off when he felt the airy feeling in his throat that tended to signify an incoming coughing fit. Come on, not now! He’d seen the correlation between physical exertion and coughing, but now was  _ really _ not the time. He played his pause off with a roundhouse kick to gadget guy’s face.

“We’re not trying to kill you,” Blond Lady smirked. Before Peter could reply, he was coughing. It wasn’t too bad, but enough for Blond Lady’s claw to nearly hit him. He came a little too close to Axe Man and recoiled, stumbling backwards until he hit somebody’s chest.  _ Oh shit _ .

“Aghhh!” Peter couldn’t contain his yell as electricity coursed through his body for several long moments. He tried to escape it, but his muscles refused to move.  The teenager felt like someone was stabbing him in the chest thousands of times.  When gadget guy finally switched off the high voltage taser, Spider-Man collapsed to his hands and knees, coughing violently as he tried to clear the pain from his scratchy throat. Karen was gone, his power-surged suit displaying nothing but gibberish as it attempted to reset itself. The assassins saw their chance and didn’t waste it.

Bozo kicked him in the ribs with superhuman strength, sending the kid flying until his back collided with the wall. Adrenaline taking over, Spider-Man shakily rose to his feet. His muscles tensed in preparation to lunge, but Peter abandoned the plan to dodge a mega-punch from Bozo. Dust fell onto his shoulder as the crater Spider-Man made earlier deepened. Well, at least it wasn’t his fault now.

_ Shink _ . A giant staple-like piece of metal came from gadget guy, pinning Spider-Man’s left wrist to the concrete wall, around the level of his hip. Peter tugged at it, but he couldn’t warp the metal before the next blow came. His head whipped to the side as Bozo punched him in the face, metal gauntlet showing its gruesome glory. Peter slid down the wall, coming to rest with his back against the concrete surface as his vision swirled and ears rung from the brutal blow. Definitely a concussion. Something sharp nicked his neck, and the sensational remind him of shots from the doctor each year.  _ Not good. _ The irritation forced another strangled cough as he lost feeling in his limbs. He prayed that his metabolism worked through it before they hurt him.

“Teenager, you said? Those are easy to break,” Blond Lady murmured. Peter craned his chin away as her claws caressed his neck. Distantly, he felt metal trap his other wrist.

“Ah man, you tagged me. I’m it. What now? Please don’t eat me because some people have tried before and I am not about that.” Spider-Man’s voice came out hoarse and scratchy, but he hoped his mask hid it.

“What do you know?”

"Uh, math, science, a little history but it’s not really my forte,” Peter did his best to shift his limbs; he could move a little bit, but his body felt weak. The metal claw pressed more firmly against his throat, so Spider-Man stilled. If they were going to kill him, they would’ve done it by now. He was safe so long as he didn’t cough and impale himself on the blade.

“What do you know about the attacks?” She snarled, face moving closer. Spider-Man squinted from the reflection of the moon off her blood red lips. Her silky voice matched the slickness of them.

“The tacks? Like the ones you jam into a bulletin board?” He cocked his head to the side.

Blond Lady shook her head. She moved aside for gadget guy, who flourished a taser baton. Peter instinctively squirmed, but in reality, his body barely moved.

“Hey. Okay, okay! We can put a pin in that… get it? Anyways, I think- AHHH,” Spider-Man jolted as he electrocuted him again. His body tensed painfully, shocks jolting his sedated muscles. When the shocks that hurt like hell finally stopped, Peter gratefully heaved in air, struggling to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. Vaguely, he noticed the electricity brought back some mobility. After the idea struck him, Peter apologized to himself; this strategy was his only way out.

“The terrorist attacks, runt,” Gadget Gyu radiated annoyance. He held the baton near him threateningly. His heart rate accelerated again, brain panicking as it anticipated the impending pain. Spider-Man could practically hear the crackling of electricity in his ear, and he pretended to give in.

“Alright! Listen, we know a lot, but I don’t think the Avengers will be very happy if-“ Peter cried out when tasered again. It really fucking hurt! But he could move a little more now. He only tested it by twitching muscles under the guise of aftershocks, but he was getting there.

“Come on! At least let me finish my sentence!” Spider-Man hissed. However, all intimidation attempts failed due to the crack in his voice at the word ‘sentence’. Gadget guy pulled his hand back again to shock him. “HEY! No, no, no! We are good in that area.”

“What do you know?!” Blond Lady grabbed him by the skull and forced his head back. Not enough pressure to pierce the suit, but close.

“Er- We uh… I’m going to be in so much trouble..,” She pushed his head back further, straining his neck so he coughed a little. He could do this. He could manipulate this. “We just know about the missing shipments, the smuggling ring, the lasers, the next targets, the next drop-off…”  He listed random things in the hopes they would follow.

“Hey,” Bozo barked. “How the hell did you find out about the Blue Snake?!” Blond Lady whirled around to flash a warning look. Now that he was looking for it, he saw that all of the assassins wore blue snakes on their left shoulders. Spider-Man smirked, but acted intimidated. He shrunk back against the wall.

“Someone in your group tattle-told. We know about the whole operation. Good symbolism with the snakes. We know everything.  _ Everything _ ,” Peter bluffed. Bozo took a step towards him, and the boy flinched.

“He didn’t mention the secret tunnel,” Bozo said, beaming with optimism. Spider-Man fought to contain a snort. Man, the biggest dudes really are the dumbest. Axe man glared at Bozo. Spider-Man wriggled his fingers, glad to see they were back. That said, he wasn’t ready to make a break for it yet.

“Oh yeah! No, we know about it…” While the assassin team argued with one another through body language, Spider-Man twisted his wrists to loosen the staples.

“Obviously they know too much,” Axe Man’s growl reminded Peter of the rough, textured grains of his wooden axe. “They’ll catch up soon.”

“Fine. We’ll take the kid as blackmail to slow them down,” Blond Lady scoffed.  _ Oh. That bluff hella backfired.  _ Peter doubled his efforts to slip out as the situation rapidly changed, but he froze when they turned back to him. Blond Lady tipped his chin up via claws, pressing on his jugular and cheeks. Spider-Man saw gadget guy pull another syringe. Ready or not, it was time to go. He looked past them to the sky, eyes widening in shock.

“Iron Man?! Oh, you guys are so screwed now!” Peter laughed. All four turned to fight the incoming hero, but… there was no one there. Spider-Man summoned all his strength to push off the wall and snap out of his restraints. They spun around to catch him, but he was already over their heads.

“Hey! You know gullible’s written on the ceiling?” Spider-Man landed clumsily in his superhero landing. Not his best day. Not taking any chances, he jumped off the roof anyway. When his line went taut, Peter barely managed to keep his grip on it. He landed safely on a lower building, but his body protested every movement, and he worried he wouldn’t make it very far.

_ Come on, Spider-Man. _ Peter took off at a run, struggling not to stumble over miniscule obstacles that laid in his path. He looked behind him in despair to see he had followers. He slid to a stop at the end of the roof and jumped onto the fire escape. From there, he slid open a window and got inside. An apartment building. How convenient. Spider-Man crept through, knowing he had to find a way to hide. Slipping into the hall, he hustled down a floor and jiggled the knob to the door nearest the staircase.

“Sorry,” Peter whispered as he karate chopped the handle. He pushed the door open, knowing he only had a few moments. Spider-Man slid the window open so they might think he’d left. Then, he grabbed a large blanket and flopped down on the couch, pulling it over his head. Quiet footsteps joined him in the room.

“He must’ve come through here,” Blond Lady whispered.

“Window’s open. Must’ve slipped out. Unless he’s hiding in here,” Spider-Man recognized the voice of gadget guy as he moved closer. Both were keeping as subtle as possible.

“Check the couch.” Blond Lady ordered. A long moment of obvious hesitation ensued.

“Someone’s sleeping.” Gadget Guy protested.

“Could be him.”

“This is a covert mission, Ash. No civilians. Can’t risk it.”

“Are you serious?” She hissed, her voice dropping down at the end as she remembered they didn’t want to wake the sleeping person. There was a long silence. “Fine. At least check thermal.”

“Nothing,” Gadget Guy reported. Spider-Man heard the pair exit through the window. He stayed still for a long time, nervous to move. That call was way too close, and if they’d caught him, Spider-Man doubted he had the energy to fight them off. Hell, Peter nearly drifted off to sleep before he remembered where he was.

Finally, he tentatively shifted. No noise occurred as a result. Peter slowly got up, glad to see his body more responsive. His ribs twinged, but he would take what he could get. Time to head back.

* * *

Spider-Man quietly touched down outside the hanger door and scanned the area for anyone who might’ve followed. No one, as far as he could tell. Eyes still trained on the darkness, Spider-Man backed through the door to the hanger.

“Where have you been?” Tony Stark asked immediately. Peter cringed. Of course Tony camped out right inside the door.

“Have you been standing there the whole time?”

“Not the whole time,” Clint joined them with a cup of coffee in hand. “He sulked for a while first.” Tony pressed his lips together.

“So, what did you do for the last few hours?” He pushed. Peter recognized that same tone from earlier. And from the roof after the ferry incident. More suppressed now, but he could tell Tony was still upset with him.

“Don’t be mad,” Peter rubbed the back of his neck. Tony crossed his arms impatiently. “Uh, I sorta got into a fight.”

“Are you okay?” Tony asked immediately. The man’s heart rate skyrocketed as his eyes inspected him for any visible injuries. Spider-Man nodded.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Despite the assurance, Tony patted his shoulder. He was checking for any signs of pain, but he played it off as an affectionate touch.

“Did you at least win?” Clint seemed significantly more amused by the concept than Tony.

“Uh…yeah,” After a long moment, Peter shrugged Mr.Stark off, hoping the billionaire wouldn’t interpret his anxiety as anger. “I did. And, I got some info.”

“Really? What did you find out?” Hawkeye urged. Peter straightened up.

“Really. Hear me out. We’ve been looking at locations where both the machines and vibranium have been shipped, right?” Two heads nodded in response. “We assumed the machines were the ones off the books, but I think it’s the other way around.”

“So, you mean the vibranium is uncharted?” Tony asked, raising his eyebrows. “I doubt it. T’Challa is extremely careful about searching each ship and plane that leaves Wakanda. He even sends guards with the shipments to make sure they go to verified buyers. He wouldn’t let that much get out.”

“I know, but he’s looking in the wrong place. The people I fought wore these matching logos of a blue snake. They said it was smuggling operation using a tunnel, and I’d bet it’s got something to do with vibranium. They could just get it out without ever going through the city” Spider-Man said. Tony furrowed his brow, considering the idea.

“You interrogated them?” Clint asked incredulously. Peter looked at him, thankful his mask was still on so he could do this.

"Yup. Managed to get one of them down long enough to make them talk,” Spider-Man stood proudly. Clint made a noise of approval, but Tony looked at him with his usual dose of skepticism.

“Where are they now?” Tony asked.

“Oh. Uh… they escaped.” Tony sighed, and Peter couldn’t help but be a little angry. He felt his chest tightening in frustration, and his fingers dug into his palms. Did  _ nothing _ please this guy? Sure, it was a lie, but how could Tony not even show the slightest sign of approval that he took down a bad guy  _ and _ successfully questioned them. What the hell?! Clint felt the tension rising and broke it up this time.

“Hey, Tony. Now that he’s back, you should get some rest. We won’t be able to leave for Wakanda until tomorrow anyway,” He suggested. Tony just looked at him. When Clint activated Dad Mode and put his hands on his hips, Tony decided it wasn’t worth fighting. He needed to cool off. Tony still felt angry at the kid. How stupid could he be to run off in the middle of the night? In a foreign country? When he was sick? For a temper tantrum? Sneaking one last glance at Peter, he skulked away.

“Thanks,” Peter relaxed his shoulders and smiled at the other Avenger.

“No problem. We all know Tony can get a little cold when stressed.”

“A little?!” Peter scoffed. Clint patted his shoulder encouragingly.

“I’m gonna go get some more joe. Need anything?” Barton offered. He knew that enhanced humans tended to have ridiculous metabolisms, so he was sure the kid was starving.

“Nah. I have some special nutrition bars and water in my bag. Thanks though,” He drifted towards where he’d left his things. Trusting him to eat, Clint hummed quietly.  _ Ah, kids _ .

* * *

Peter leaned against the wall, munching on a protein bar. Pieces from his toolkit lay scattered around him as he worked on fixing his suit. A bolt there, a screwdriver there. It was a surprise he didn’t lose any parts. From what he could see, his suit overloaded from the power surge, so all he had to do was find the right fuses and switch them out. His fingers nimbly manipulated the suit, looking for the spots he needed to adjust. Peter made a mental note to speak with Tony about a power surge upgrade.

His body felt wrecked- not just from the terrorist gas, but from being shocked, beaten up, and drugged. A few ribs probably cracked from that kick earlier. He’d heal by morning, but that didn’t subtract from the soreness that engulfed his torso, considering that every time he coughed, the damaged bones throbbed painfully. Additionally, he’d taken his mask off to see a massive bruise on the left side of his face. All the teenager wanted to do was sleep, but he didn’t want to disappoint Mr.Stark by breaking the suit. Besides, Peter mastered running on minimal sleep as soon as he hit the 8th grade- one of the worse qualities he shared with his mentor.

“Hey,” A soft voice called. Peter looked up to see Agent Norris next to him. She held out an ice pack. “For your face.”

“Oh!” Peter set his suit to the side and accepted it. “Thanks.”

“Mind if I sit next to you?” She asked.

“Uh, yeah! Sure!” A little surprised, Peter scooted over to make some more space. “So, uh… what’s the occasion?”

“Oh. I just figured we should do something about that bruise there. Must’ve been a hard hit. Also, it looked like you had a rough day, and I thought maybe you could use a shoulder to lean on,” Norris smiled honestly, her eyes gazing at him with concern.

“Yeah, it was a pretty nasty punch. This dude wore metal gauntlets and BAM!” Peter mimicked the swing with his hand. “Right in the face. Definitely not the highlight of my career. And thanks. It’s really nice of you to go out of your way for me.”

“Well, the other agents do call me Agent Mom sometimes.” Peter noted the way her eyes lit up as she mentioned being a mom.

“You do give off that kind of vibe,” Peter admitted. With one hand, she brushed a stray hair behind her ear.

“I hope that’s a good thing. It seems like you and your father aren’t getting along so well right now,” She offered a compassionate smile.

“Oh! Uh… Mr.Stark isn’t my dad! He’s more of… um… he’s sorta… it’s kinda complicated,” Peter stammered. Agent Norris turned red.

“I am so sorry! I just assumed! I don’t mean to overstep or anything like that.” Spider-Man shook his head, sending her a nervous smile to calm her down.

“No, it’s totally okay. Common mistake, actually. He’s been mentoring me for a while, but we’re not related.” Peter mentally admitted that  he had sometimes viewed Tony as a father figure, but lately there were too many ridges. He wanted there to be trust in the relationship first, but it seemed like Mr.Stark didn’t think he could tie his own shoes just because he had a cough.

“Got it. I just figured you we’re related. He acts pretty protective for someone who isn’t your dad.” She explained. Peter shrugged, fighting to pull himself out of his thoughts.

“Well, yeah. What we do is dangerous, and he just wants me to be safe. He’s usually not this bad, it’s just lately he’s been… y’know.” He waved the ice pack around a little as he tried to explain their complex relationship.

“Is it because you’ve got that cold?”

“Um.. I can’t really talk about anything like-“

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m not going to push if you don’t want to talk about it. I’m here if you need me though,” She seemed genuine, and Peter almost considered telling her. However, the Avengers already decided that the less people that knew, the better. Making missions personal was apparently dangerous, according to Mr.Stark.

“Thanks. Really,” Peter recognized the tickle in his throat and took a long chug of water. Setting it aside, he reached for his suit and laid it across his lap. He caught Agent Norris watching with interest as he manipulated the fabric, so Peter decided to involve her.

“Here. Can you hold this little plate up so I can check under it?” He asked. She nodded eagerly. Peter reached under with a miniature pair of pliers and grabbed a fuse. Then, he grabbed a new one and pushed it in. That should be the last one. Spider-Man turned his uniform over and tapped the logo. To his relief, it flashed before emitting a soft glow.

“Does that mean it’s fixed?” Norris asked.

“Yup. That fight knocked it out, but we should be all good now,” Peter meticulously folded his suit and laid his mask on top of it. He couldn’t but feel a sense of relief that Karen would be back next time he put it on. He knew that despite being an extension of Mr.Stark, she really provided the soothing voice that Peter needed sometimes. Not that Tony’s input was unwanted, but he often came off detached and uncaring. Karen, however, remained a calming entity. He just wished Mr.Stark acted as affectionate. Seeing the teenager lost in thought, Agent Norris stood up to give him some space.

“Okay. Now that your suit’s fixed, will you get some sleep?” Peter chuckled and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m exhausted!” He wasn’t even exaggerating. It had taken all his remaining energy to not pass out while working on his suit. However, if he waited until morning, Tony would find out and realize the fight was harsher than he let on. Agent Norris smiled and reached out to ruffle his hair.

“Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite!” She turned slowly and returned to her own sleeping area. Peter watched her go. He liked her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the team travels to Wakanda to investigate a lead, Tony knows Peter is hiding something, but Peter is frustrated by the overprotective actions of his mentor. Exhausted from his condition, so Peter takes solace in a new friend, and Tony is not happy.

**52 Days Remaining**

“So you believe someone is smuggling vibranium out of Wakanda?” T’Challa leaned forward at the table.

“Possibly,” Tony admitted. T’Challa twisted his lips a little.

“It’s unlikely. Wakanda is very good about tracking the vibranium, and few people betray Wakanda, especially now that we are open to the world,” Okoye narrowed her eyes, her jaw clenching tersely at the accusation of negligence.

“If there is that possibility, we must look into it, Okoye,” T’Challa sent her a pointed look to back off and be cordial.

“Peter here is the one who got the information.” Clint nudged the teenager. Peter coughed preemptively, so he’d be good for a few minutes.

“Uh… yeah…They said something about smuggling and a tunnel,” Spider-Man explained. 

“Who’s ‘they’?” Black Panther looked Peter in the eye, searching for any hidden answers that the teenager may not divulge.

“These four mercenary-type people, all of them with the logo of a blue snake on their uniforms. Does that logo mean anything to you?” Peter asked.

“No… do you have any images?” The King racked his brain for any ideas. Snakes did have some historical symbolism, but few groups in the last couple decades utilized such a theme.

“I might be able to draw it,” Peter reached for his backpack and pulled out a notebook, already turning a bit red. He knew he couldn’t draw this if his life depended on it. He barely remembered the logo anyways. He drew a crappy sketch of a snake and started to go back to do more details when a calloused hand set over his own.

“Pete,” Tony whispered, eyeing him with concern. “Baby monitor protocol, remember?” Peter’s eyes widened.

“Crap! Yeah,” Peter’s ears turned red, and he grabbed his phone, which already synced to his mask. He nervously went through the footage, trying to rewind fast enough that Tony wouldn’t catch what actually went down. In the meantime, Clint glanced over at the open notebook and noted that they may want to invest in some art classes for the kid.

“Sorry, he was out a bit late last night so he’s a little-” Clint wiggled his hand in a so-so motion. Tony sent Clint a defensive look. Feeling the eyes on him, Peter sighed in relief when he finally got it pulled up.

“Here ya go,” Peter passed the phone across the table, taking care not to set it down or else he might mess up the extravagant designs etched into the woodwork. Sure, there was a layer of protective gloss on the top, but he wasn’t about to risk it. This table probably cost more than his whole apartment. T’Challa looked at the image before passing it to Okoye.

“Haven’t seen it. We can check out the tunnels though and see. Come,” T’Challa stood up and abruptly left the room. The rest of the team- consisting of Tony, Clint, Peter, and two of their specialists, Norris and Batair. They followed King T’Challa through the Wakandan palace, past pillars of marble and vibranium. Lining many of the walls were floor-to-ceiling windows that shone out to the futuristic city.

Peter felt the warm air hit his face as they stepped out into the sunlight. He blocked the rays with his face, but peered around his hand to look at the airships flying around the city. The little nerd briefly wondered if this is what living in the Star Wars universe was like. The group followed T’Challa and Okoye down a ramp that descended into a mine shaft. At the bottom of the ramp, several people milled about, appearing to work on various pieces of technology in a modernized lab.

“Shuri!” A teenage girl, easily the youngest of the scientists, turned around and smiled. Her hair wired up into an intricate bun with minute studs mixed in for decoration. Shuri wore a long-sleeve shirt with a panther face on it, but the sleeves rolled up to make working on her gadget safer. The young genius set down the glowing device she held in her hand, and it floated on its little storage platform.

“T’Challa! Are these more American friends?”

“None of them have bullets in them this time,” T’Challa assured, prompting shuri to give a pout of disappointment. Not that she enjoyed seeing anyone hurt, but any time T’Challa invited outsiders, her life got a little more interesting. Unraveling the conditioning for Bucky forced her to learn about advanced neuroscience and psychology, and Agent Coulson’s naivete amused her beyond end.

“I enjoy fixing your white boys. It’s always a good challenge,” She said.

“Wait, what?” Peter raised his eyebrows. T’Challa glanced at him, but did not respond to their guests... He did not want Stark to know that Barnes still took refuge in Wakanda. From what Steve Rogers relayed, an encounter would not bode well for either party. T’Challa had resisted from asking more information on the reasons for such hatred, as the Black Panther could see years of pain in both men, and he did not feel it his place to intrude.

“Shuri, a word?” T’Challa pulled her aside, speaking to in hushed tones. While the king caught her up to speed, the Avengers wandered around the lab. Peter peered over the shoulder of a scientist to see what she worked on, but he was largely ignored, so Peter boredly stared into space. He should’ve been ecstatic about the myriad of new tech surrounding him, but, surprisingly, he was just disinterested. Tony, meanwhile, strolled over to a console and began to swipe curiously through the files. Shuri noticed this, but assumed he would not get clearance to anything too important. Clint, Norris, and Batair just looked out at the vast Great Mound mine, taking it all in. The various government agencies allocated surmountable resources to finding vibranium in the past. Now they simply bought the vibranium, but their senior agents were still conditioned to take note of any amount they found.

“How do you contain this much energy?” Tony piped up, rolling a round, glowing device in his palm. “Electromagnetic fields?”

“Yes. The vibranium itself insulates it and creates the field,” Shuri plucked it from his hand. “Careful, genius. If you roll it the wrong way, it’ll blast you out that window.” Tony smiled. He followed Shuri’s work in the science and information exchange closely, and meeting the innovator just reaffirmed her ingenuity. She dropped the ball on her desk and waved the others over as T’Challa motioned for all the other scientists to leave them. Peter coughed quietly into his arm as he moved forward to join them, but he stopped. Maybe it would be more polite to hang back a bit so as to not make the others uncomfortable.

“I’ll send drones to scan for any anomalies in the cave walls,” Shuri spread her hands apart to form a hologram in front of her. Images began to pop up around the group.

“This is Agent Norris, she’s our surveillance specialist,” Tony introduced. Agent Norris shook Shuri’s hand before standing next to her to look at the scans, acting as if she belonged there. T’Challa crinkled his nose, but respected people’s various talents.

“Look for anything out of place,” Shuri stepped close to an image to skim for any discolorations, and Norris did the same. After a minute, the woman pointed to a dark spot.

“Does that look weird?” Norris asked. Shuri enlarged the image Norris pointed to, but the color was too dim. A filter overlay the image, to reveal a significantly darker area.

“Could be a tunnel,” Shuri peered at it closely. T’Challa took off his jacket and set it on the back of a chair.

“I will go check it out. Stark?” He looked at the man expectantly, buy Tony turned his head when he heard Peter coughing again.

“Uh… y’know what? Barton here is better at reconnaissance. I think I’m gonna grab something to eat, if that alright?” Tony wore his signature grin, the one that Peter recognized from press conferences where he spewed out PR lies. Something felt off about the way that Tony crossed the room and put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. T’Challa tilted his head and regarded Hawkeye.

“Very well. Okoye can show you and the others where to get some food.” Okoye huffed, but tilted her head towards the ramp to show the others the way out. She did not like being sidelined.

* * *

As they came up on the dining hall, Peter felt a hand grab his shoulder and hold him back. He gazed up at Mr.Stark. Tony looked him over and opened his mouth, but then closed it. He thought for a moment. “How you doing, Pete? You seemed a little out of it back there.”

“Uh… okay, Just the usual cough. Maybe a little tired from last night,” Peter wrapped his arms around himself at the impending doom of another overprotective lecture. He did  _ not _ enjoy these. It was as if Mr.Stark didn’t believe he had the intelligence to properly take care of himself. He did… It was just… hard to explain.

“How exactly did that go down, huh? Did you just get the drop on them?” Tony crossed his arms, watching the kid’s eyes carefully. They darted around, landing anywhere but on him. The billionaire fought extremely hard not to force Peter into another full-scale checkup. He seemed scatterbrained at the least.

“Uh, yeah.” Peter stammered. Tony took a deep breath. The kid really sucked at lying.

“From what little footage I saw, it didn’t look like a very good fight.”

“I got shocked! Karen went offline for a little bit.”

“Oh, is t _ hat _ what happened to your tracker?” Peter rubbed the back of his neck at that same tone. He said nothing for a while, but Tony waited patiently until he did.

“...Are you mad?” Peter asked. Tony breathed out through his nose. He didn’t want to push too much; he could tell Pete was already a bit distanced, and he didn’t want to make it worse. Clint already lectured him about being too overbearing, even though Stark believed Peter to be hiding things.

‘No. Let’s just go grab some food.”

* * *

Tony sipped his scotch, sneaking the occasional glance at Peter. Peter had grabbed a plate of food, but while Tony grabbed his own, Peter padded across the room and took the last seat next to Mrs.Norris. The only other available seat was the opposite end of the table.

“You feeling better today?” She asked, giving him a welcoming smile.

“Eh… got a headache. And Karen says I have a fever now,” Peter shrugged and took a bite of his food.

“Want some ibuprofen?” She offered, already reaching for her bag.

“No thanks,” Peter reached out to stop her. “Anything I take just goes straight through my metabolism.”

“Oh, ok. Well… I hope you feel better,” She set a soothing hand on his arm. Peter subconsciously leaned into the touch. He liked her and didn’t want to depress her on the subject of his illness.

“So, uh, where’s your surveillance experience from? Like, what’s the coolest mission you’ve done?” Peter asked. Norris launched into stories about her various adventures and missions, except for those that remained classified. Her eyes had a way of lighting up when she talked about her work, and Peter frequently interjected to ask questions.

Tony couldn’t hear them, but he could see their mouths moving, and he saw Peter smiling a little as Norris laughed. He looked relaxed, trusting. A look that Tony hadn’t seen Peter give him as of late. A pang of jealousy hit him. Why would he open up to  _ her _ ? Did he not give the kid enough? Was he the bad guy for wanting the teenager to go home and get a freaking education?! For wanting him to get some rest so he didn’t kill himself as quickly? Frustrated, he downed the rest of his scotch in one go.

Tony hated being like this. He had this way of pushing away everyone he loved when he got scared. That’s what happened with Pepper, and the man was damn lucky that she was too stubborn to leave him. All he wanted was for Peter to be safe. Instead, he brought him into this business, and the kid was now slowly dying from a poison they weren’t sure they could stop. If anything, if felt like Peter was already gone. Peter noticed Tony get up and sweep from the room, saying nothing to anyone as he marched out. A part of him wanted to follow, but he let it go. He might just cause more problems for Tony. Norris noticed his gaze shifting and paused in her story.

“So, I take it things haven’t gotten much better in that area?” She watched as the door nearly slammed, but Tony stopped at the last second to close it gently. Peter leaned over his food, shoulders slumping.

“No. I don’t know why he’s acting like this. We used to be so close, but lately… I dunno... He just seems to be mad at me all the time.” Peter downed a fourth glass of water, sickness not being the only reason his throat had gone dry. Norris noticed the way his eyes glistened in a new way as he stared at the closed door.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She offered. Peter nodded. “Okay. Let’s go somewhere else then.”

* * *

“Wow. That’s… uh… a lot of weight,” Norris said when he’d finished explaining. Peter brushed his hair out of his eyes and looked out at the view. The pair found a balcony overlooking the city. Peter sat on the ledge, leaning against a pillar with one knee up and his arm resting across it, but Norris shied away from the edge to opt for a lofty chair near him.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have dropped it all on you… I just…. Needed to rant a bit I guess,” Peter apologized. He refused to look at her, despite the way she watched him with concern.

“No, no, no. It’s perfectly alright. No one else knows, do they?” She asked. Peter raised a hand dismissively.

“No. None of my friends know, and definitely not my Aunt May. I want to tell her, but… after my uncle died, I just can’t do it to her, y’know? But I’ll have to tell her eventually. Tony and I called her this morning to ask for her to call in sick for me, but I’ll have to explain it to her eventually…” Peter’s head felt too heavy, so he let it drop into his knee, blinking furiously. The rising anxiety in his chest forced him to begin coughing again- a nasty, hacking cough that didn’t end for a little while. When he was done, Peter clenched his fists.

“I  _ hate _ this. No matter what I do, it’s wrong. I try to impress Mr.Stark? I lose the suit. I try to save a kid? I get poisoned. I try to find a cure for myself? I’m called an irresponsible teenager who needs to spend more time playing the victim. I just- UGH!” Peter wiped his eyes with his arm, trying to keep himself together. He barely knew this woman, and here he was crying in front of her over classified information. Norris slowly got up and hesitantly placed an arm around him. Peter instantly leaned into the touch, the side of his head coming to rest against her chest.

“It’s okay. I know you’re mad. And that’s okay. It’s a tough situation. But y’know what? From what it looks like, Tony isn’t mad,” She rubbed the side of his arm.

“Really? I can always tell from that tone in his voice. He has this… this voice that he uses when he gets angry, and his hand tends to shake. Does that a lot lately,” Peter huffed.

“You could be mistaking his anxiety from anger. He paced the whole time you were gone last night, Peter. The man obviously cares about you. You just gotta talk to him.” Peter let out a choked laugh. Like that would ever work.

“Pshh. Like that’d ever work.” Norris opened her mouth to respond, but one of T’Challa’s guards chose that moment to join them on the balcony. Peter quickly turned his head away, hiding the tears and the redness on his face.

“They’re asking for you,” The guard explained. Norris nodded to her.

“We’ll be right behind you.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team moves in on a terrorist deal, but things don’t go exactly as planned.

**52 Days Remaining**

“So you’re not coming?” Peter asked, glancing at Norris.

“We decided she’d be better up here running mission control with Shuri,” Tony explained. Peter opened his mouth to say something, but got interrupted.

“We found something,” T’Challa pulled up a screen from his wrist. “There was indeed a hidden tunnel there. We don’t know where it goes yet, but they’re using small power-sources to light the tunnel.”

“They used a weak source to avoid detection, so the power will probably only last a few more hours,” Shuri showed them a meter of predicted energy remaining.

“So whoever it is will be moving through soon,” Tony concluded. The others nodded. “Let’s suit up then.” When everyone else moved out, Peter approached Norris shyly.

“Whose idea was it for you to stay here?” He watched closely for a reaction. She tucked an escaping lock of hair behind her ear.

“Um..,” Norri avoided making eye contact despite the way Peter put himself in front of her. No other words were spoken.

“Fine.” Peter huffed. Either he’d pushed her away with his impending death, or Tony interfered again. Whichever it was, Peter trudged from the room. He’d probably be better off as the Amazing Spider-Man for a while instead of Penis Parker.

Peter wandered down the hall, assuming he’d find his room eventually. His eyes boredly looked for any familiar doors, but he was stuck in his own head. Everything just seemed to wrong. He was frustrated beyond end, but anyone he confided in just avoided him. Maybe it was time to tell Aunt May, but… Peter couldn’t bring himself to do it. She’d already lost Ben, and Ned told him Aunt May had been hysterical when Spider-Man disappeared to fight Thanos. And this wasn’t something they could reverse.

Telling Ned briefly crossed his mind, but that could be even worse. Ned struggled to keep Spider-Man a secret, and his best friend? He didn’t know if he could do that to him- Ned was so innocent. When Peter finally found his room, he shut the door and ran his hands through his hair. What a mess.

However, the troubled eyes softened when they landed on the bright suit. It was okay. He could handle this. Letting out a deep breath, firm hands grasped his uniform. Spider-Man figured everything out eventually.

* * *

The team milled about the lab, grabbing whatever they needed. While the UN agents checked their weapons, Okoye briefed her guard on the situation at hand. In the corner, T’Challa, Tony, and Clint spoke quietly.

As he re-entered the room in uniform, Peter slapped his web-shooters onto his wrists. Shuri turned her head automatically at the new, mechanical sound. Her eyes lit up when she saw them molding to fit perfectly. “What are those?!”

“Uh..,” Peter smiled nervously when Shuri grabbed his arm, fingers brushing over the smooth metal. He let his arm go slack so the girl could inspect the device easily. “It’s a web-shooter.”

“Oh! So those, are where the webs come from in the videos?” Shuri asked. Peter raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah. You’ve seen my videos on YouTube?” Peter couldn’t help the blush that spread across his face at the concept when the Wakandan nodded. He spoke quickly. “Y’know, those were old videos… not really-”

“How does these work?” Shuri interrupted, pulling his arm parallel to the ground. Her brow furrowed as a soft hand caressed the smooth metal, looking for a switch. Fingers brushed close to his palm. Spider-Man glanced in the direction of his arm.

“Shuri, wait!” Peter tried to shift his aim, but Shuri had already pressed the trigger to the web. A classic web thwiped across the room. The sticky substance trapped T’Challa’s hand against his chest.

“Peter!” Tony snapped, head swiveling to face Spider-Man. Peter flew across the room.

“I am so sorry, Mr. T’Challa. I didn’t mean to! It just- I… here!” Peter grabbed the special knife from his left shooter to work on cutting T’Challa free.

“I really, really didn’t mean to hit you. I’m sorry, and it won’t happen again. I promise!” While Peter spewed out strings of apologies, Shuri died of laughter, barely staying up as she watched the confusion on her brother’s face.

“Sorry about him. Pete...“ Tony put a hand on his shoulder as Clint stifled a laugh. Peter sliced through the last connecting bit of webbing and pulled the little strands off of T’Challa’s hand.

“I am so sorry, sir- I mean King!” Peter turned and awkwardly stalked back to Shuri.

“That was amazing!” She giggled. Peter’s face remained tomato red.

“Maybe for you.”

“Underoos!” Tony called from the doorway. “Let’s go.” 

“What’s Underoos?” Shuri asked.

“Just a nickname,” Peter sent Shuri an embarrassed smile before scampering after his mentor.

* * *

“You see it?” Iron Man asked.

“Yeah,” Spider-Man watched the dark spot from his perch. The team had spread out across the surrounding area, using rocks and train tracks for cover. Peter had to admit he wasn’t a huge fan of this place. Above ground felt like a Star Wars fantasy, but the Great Mound’s air felt moist and sticky. If Wakanda was Cloud City, this mine was the Dagobah Swamp.

“Okay. What’s your plan?” Tony prompted. Peter rolled his eyes at the obvious training exercise. They’d already done dozens of these.

“Gonna send droney out and go from there,” Spider-Man double tapped his logo to release the flying spider. Karen automatically pulled up the video feed as Droney flew over to the tunnel and crawled past the blackout curtain.

“Good. Always scan the situation before you engage.” Tony approved, clasping a hand on his shoulder. Peter scoffed at him.

“What?” Iron Man asked.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” Tony’s innocent voice held no slimmer of guilt. Peter exhaled forcefully. These little training moments were nonexistent for months, and  _ now _ , Tony thinks it’s a good time. He bet Tony had something to do with what happened earlier.

“Just... focus,” Peter looked at his display. “We got seven bad guys just hanging out, and it looks like another set coming in from the west.”

“We got that too,” Shuri confirmed. “The group inside the mine looks to be hauling something. I’ll narrow in.”

“No need, sister. We can see them already,” Black Panther switched his suit to cloaking mode. He slipped down from where his claws grabbed the wall to creep behind them.

“Do not engage until they finish their deal,” Hawkeye reminded, notching a smoke arrow into his bow. The group of dark-clad baddies worked their way towards the tunnel entrance, lugging carts of vibranium.

“They have unrefined vibranium. We only track vibranium after we’ve processed it,” T’Challa clenched his jaw. Exposing Wakanda to the world persistently brought about more problems for his people.

“Isn’t Wakanda the only country with the resources to refine it?” Iron Man asked

“So we thought” Shuri’s mouth drew into a thin line. Norris rerouted the audio feed to their comms.

_ “Here’s your money,” _ A woman passed a duffel bag to the man leading the group of vibranium smugglers.

_ “Good. I brought your vibranium.” _ He motioned to the hovering minecarts behind him. Members of the buying party moved forward to expect the load of vibranium. Everyone seemed to wait patiently.

“Two suspects guarding the outside of the tunnel. Double takedown?” Agent Batair asked. Black Panther muttered an affirmative as he moved closer. Peter cleared his throat as quietly as possible.

“Make sure you’re good to go, or hang back. We can’t lose anyone here,” Hawkeye warned. He said it to the whole group, but Peter could feel it was directed at him. He’d be fine.

_ “Everything’s here, Boss,” _ A dark-haired man with a thick accent double-tapped the cart nearest to him.

_ “Of course it is,” _ The Wakandan leader said.  _ “Although I’m still curious as to how you’re managing to use it.” _

_ “Your job is to trade with us, not ask questions,” _ The woman snarled, taking a step closer to him.

_ “I think it’s in my interests to know how my merchandise gets used,” _ The leader stepped equally closer so he didn’t seem one-upped.

_ “Munsif does not care for your curiosity.” _ Tony noted the name. Black Panther whispered a signal over the comms, and both men attacked the guards. Agent Batair caught the one on the left in a chokehold, his other hand muffling any sound. Meanwhile, T’Challa merely touched his guard to electrocute him into unconsciousness.

_ “The hell he doesn’t.” _ When the man moved towards the woman again, weapons on the buyers’ side flew up defensively- only to met by armed thugs on the other side. Every single person had a weapon trained on them in the tense standoff.

“Deal might be going south,” Tony charged up his blaster in case.

“No! Just give them a minute to de-escalate it.” Clint said. Most dealers buckle after long enough. While they waited, T’Challa and Batair dragged the limp bodies out of the way. It remained quiet for a long moment.

_ “Careful. Curiosity killed the Panther,” _ The woman winked at the antagonist across from her. He gave a tight-lipped smile.

_ “Fine,” _ The man conceded.  _ “Just give us the other half of our payment, and we’ll go our separate ways.” _ After a moment, she gave the signals, and weapons on both sides slowly lowered. A large, black box wheeled forward.

_ “Take it and go,” _ Buyer Lady’s hands drifted to her hips impatiently as the vibranium group took the box over. The first seller began to move towards the exit.

“Now,” Black Panther ordered. Okoye burst in first, taking out the leg of the lady closest to the entrance. The rest of the team raced after her as all the bad guys drew their weapons. Iron Man flew through the gap and shot a device towards the heart of the tunnel, resulting in a forcefield that blocked any perps from escaping. There were 15 targets and 9 people on their squad. Shouldn’t be a problem, right?

Spider-Man shot a web grenade between two of the buyers, lobbing the two together in a sticky mess. A splitter web then slingshotted the teenager into them at full force. Bullets hit Iron Man’s armor but merely bounced off. Tony pivoted to backhand the poor fool into the wall. Meanwhile, Black Panther went after the Wakandan seller.

“Traitor!” T’Challa pinned the man down, but he lurched to end up on top of the king. Okoye stabbed the criminal in the side with her spear, smirking at the grunt of pain. He grabbed the spear and yanked it towards him. The tip dug in farther, but Okoye was taken off guard enough for him to kick her in the abdomen. She lost her grip and stumbled backwards.

“Try not to kill anyone!” Hawkeye and Agent Batair targeted the female buyer as the rest of the team took down the lackeys. Hawkeye landed an arrow in her leg, causing her to fall onto one knee. Batair moved to punch her, but she expertly deflected the punch. As Hawkeye’s bow bore down on her, she caught it above her head, and Batair used the opening to kick her in the stomach. She rolled backwards and unsheathed a knife.

Spider-Man just finished securing the two guys when his Spider-Sense warned him of some incoming bullets, so he flipped backwards to avoid them. He webbed the gun out of someone’s hand before slinging it against the wall and sticking it there. “Hey man, you know guns aren’t cool, right?”

The man charged at Peter, but he just jumped and hung off the ceiling. “Missed me!” Two more punches missed before Spider-Man caught his fist and flipped him.

The two other Dora Milaje worked to dispatch the mutinied wakandans, taking down three without difficulty. However, Iron Man moved to them to take down a warrior about to hit T’Challa. The man blacked out as soon as the blaster hit his armor. Okoye grabbed the other woman behind her and tased her. As Iron Man went to knock out the last Wakandan, they heard a shout from the deeper part of the cave.

While Clint and Batair had focused on the lead lady, the other UN Agent they’d brought found himself overwhelmed by two of the terrorists. While one distracted him, the other terrorist popped the black box open and typed something in. The UN Agent turned around after taking down the distracting character only to see a devious smirk on the other woman’s face.

Spider-Man leaped down from the roof of the tunnel and scrambled over to the agent. He webbed the smirking woman’s hand to the box before looking inside.  _ This doesn’t look good. _

“Mr.Stark! We might have a problem,” Peter inspected the contents. A massive oval shape sat in the box, made of a matte, metal material. Hooked to the outside was a panel surrounded by black wiring. When Spider-Man set a hand on the screen to light it up, it flashed the “ARMED” message in bright red letters. Tony now stood beside him, eyes wide.

“It’s another bomb.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony resorts to violence in an attempt to stop a bomb, and T'Challa becomes wary. Also some fluff involving Peter at the end :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh! Sorry this took so long to get out. I was traveling for a little while, then when I got back I was distracted by a whump piece, and I edited this chapter a LOT to get it where I wanted it to be. I hope you enjoy it!

**52 Days Remaining**

“It’s another bomb” Tony’s hand instinctively reached behind him, pushing Peter farther from the weapon of mass destruction. Iron Man felt a gloved hand over his own as Spider-Man separated himself from him.

“Is it armed?” T’Challa asked, wrestling with the Wakandan seller. He snuck a glance towards Tony and the others, but the traitor kicked his side. It was time to end this. With a growl, Black Panther drew his fist back and slammed into the man’s face. Muscles involuntarily relaxed, and the body thudded to the ground involuntarily.

“Yes.” Clint scowled at the news. They couldn’t afford a 4th detonation. The buyer lunged at him with her knife, but Hawkeye caught her wrist and twisted it to loosen the grip. A sweep of the leg, and she was on her stomach, Clint pulling her arm up painfully while his other hand ground her face into the ground.

“Cuffs,” He grunted. Batair rushed forward, pulling her other hand up. He slapped the thick metal cuffs on his utility belt onto the pair of wrists. No sooner than the cuffs had closed was she swearing and attempting to escape.

“Shuri. Clear a wide perimeter,” Black Panther ordered. He surged forward to inspect the bomb’s wiring.

“You’re going to want to clear a 5-kilometer radius, if not more. And you need to be clear in 10 minutes.” Tony chimed, thinking back to New York.

“That will be tight. We might not get everyone out,” Shuri admitted, even as she broadcasted the evacuation alert. Tony’s heart beat against his chest as he surveyed the group in front of him. They needed to stop this bomb, but more importantly, they needed to keep everyone safe. And that was easier said than done.

“Listen up. Everyone without a full face mask needs to clear out of here,” Iron Man ordered. Everyone shifted to leave, but Tony noticed a particular kid didn’t. “You too, Spider-Man.”

“But I have a mask!” Peter protested. However, the voice crack didn’t help his case. Tony felt something rising within in. A surge of protectiveness, but also anger. Why couldn’t the kid just fucking listen?! Last time Peter ignored him, he filled his lungs with poison. That was  _ not _ happening again. He just needed to keep the kid safe. Tony muted his comm and grabbed Peter’s shoulder, pulling him in close. His mask dematerialized off his face.

“You breathe in another whiff of this stuff, and it might kill you. Go.” There was a certain snarl- an air of finality in the man’s voice- that told Peter this was  _ really _ not up for debate. A look into his mentor’s anxious eyes confirmed it. Spider-Man tentatively started towards the exit, but a quiet groan stopped him in his tracks.

“Wait! What about all these guys?” Spider-Man motioned to the downed baddies scattered about the tunnel. “We can’t just leave them here to die.”

Tony looked around, lips pursed. His first instinct was to do nothing. These fuckers probably deserved it. But then he looked at Spider-Man, standing with his shoulders back and head held high. It reminded Tony eerily of Steve’s moral righteousness. Peter was a good kid; Tony couldn’t contest that.

“Some of these warriors are Wakandan. They must stand a proper trial,” The king murmured. Iron Man’s mouth twitched.

“I can remote control a ship to pick them up,” Shuri offered. T’Challa shook his head, despite knowing she could not see.

“No. Your lab is in the Great Mound. You must evacuate as well.”

“Then I will pilot it manually.” A sound of disapproval echoed through their ears. “Trust me, brother.”

“Fine. But if you die, Mama will kill me,” T’Challa motioned the Dora Milaje to start moving captives towards the entrance to the cave. Peter and the UN agents rushed to help the operation.

“In 10 minutes, your precious city will be gasping for air,” A voice chuckled. T’Challa rounded on her and grabbed the front of her shirt. The rim of the box collided roughly with her back as the Black Panther shoved her into it. Her arm remained uncomfortably bent with the webbing from earlier, and the white substance had no give.

“How do we disable it?” T’Challa demanded. His claws pressed against her neck threateningly. She said nothing, eyes glaring into his mask. Tony quickly scanned the woman’s face.

_ “Her name is Iniko Moyo. She works at a car dealership. Arrest in 2016 for protesting. She lost her husband in a terrorist attack but maintains custody of a 13 year old daughter. That is all the information presently available, sir.” _ FRIDAY chimed.

“I’m not telling you,” She snarled. Black Panther pushed her harder against the box, but she just shook her head.

“What’s your endgame?” With Peter out of the way, Tony focused on the matter at hand. Stark investigated the bomb, carefully shifting wires in the hopes he may recognize something. However, the setup felt completely foreign, and FRIDAY found nothing in the shared database. Shit. Could he short circuit it? Maybe stop the internal clock to freeze the timer?

“Just you, seeing what it’s like to lose your precious people,” She sneered at T’Challa. As the bomb emitted a quiet, steady beep, Tony messed with a few more wires, but didn’t disconnect anything as he withdrew. Not worth the risk, and the time on the clock was dropping.

“Okay, Moyo. Is that how you want to do this?” Iron Man encroached her personal space, coming mere inches from her face. Iniko could feel the hot breath on her face.

“Do what?” If not for the situation at hand, that smug little face of innocence would’ve been flawless.

“Disable the bomb, Moyo!” Black Panther demanded. Tony’s left arm shook. They couldn’t lose this battle. They  _ had _ to find the source of this stuff. For Peter.

“Okay. Fine,” Tony didn’t even think. He just shoved T’Challa aside and charged up his repulsor. Moyo gasped in shock when the hot metal touched her stomach. “Learned this trick from an old friend.”

“No,” Moyo said defiantly. The heat increased, searing the skin underneath, and Iniko grimaced. The beeping of the bomb grew louder, more frequent.

“Stark,” T’Challa warned. He hesitantly lifted a hand, but dropped it. These tactics weren’t within Wakandan procedures…

“Do you want this gas to get out?” Iron Man snarled. Black Panther didn’t respond, calculating his options. Moyo stifled a whimper as her skin burned. “Disarm it.”

“Or what?” Iniko goaded. Iron Man gestured to the bomb.

“If that goes off, we’re fine. You? You die… You think your kid’s ready to be an orphan?” Tony words sparked an emotion within the woman. Her eyes flickered to the exit of the cave. “That’s right. You die. She’s alone. Same goes for a lot of Wakandan kids. Is that what you want your legacy to be?” No response. Tony pulled her out from the box with his free hand and thrust her back into it.

“Is it?!” Tony growled and pressed the repulsor against her chest. Iniko grunted in pain, and Black Panther grabbed Iron Man’s wrist, pulling it away. Tony’s head swiveled, and T’Challa almost faltered at the sight of him. Wild eyes- slightly obscured by falling locks of hair- bore into the king’s. His jaw clenched tightly above the throbbing veins under his red skin. “Let. Go.”

“No. This is not the way,” T’Challa said firmly. He could not stand by and watch while Iron Man mutilated this woman for information. Tony didn’t fight the grip. There was no time. Not for Wakanda. Not for Peter.  _ Peter _ .

“Disable the bomb now, or I swear to god, after you die, your daughter dies too.”

“Stark!” Black Panther hissed. Iniko’s eyes flickered between the two of them. Stark latched onto that fear like a lion grabs its chosen prey.

“You love your daughter, don’t you?” Tony cooed. “You’d do anything for her, wouldn’t you? I know how it is. I’d do the same for my own. Including killing yours.”

“You’re bluffing,” She said. When Tony looked at her again, he saw Peter’s face instead of Iniko’s. Something dark dwelled within him.

“Am I?” He cocked his head to the side as the beeping grew louder. Tony could barely hear anything else except for that horrible sound. Nothing else mattered. His repulsor glowed brighter, threatening to melt the woman’s goddamn face off. “Try me.”

Moyo hesitated. Iron Man could practically feel her chest heaving with anxiety. After what felt like a century, a shaking hand slowly reached behind her and typed in a code.

“DISARMED” The screen flashed green. Tony’s entire persona changed. The tension in his left fingers ebbed, surrendering the wrinkled shirt he’d been clutching. His lips morphed into a tight smile, and Black Panther tentatively released his wrist.

“That was almost a hot mess, right?” He lightly punched T’Challa’s shoulder with a sense of camaraderie. T’Challa blinked as Tony strutted towards the exit, as if he hadn’t just grilled this woman for answers.

“Come... Wakanda will treat you fair,” T’Challa whispered to the woman. He promised himself to keep a closer eye on Stark.

* * *

Tony stood at a spare desk in Shuri’s lab, tools scattered around him. To any outsider, it would’ve looked like an utter disaster, but the tools were actually arranged in an organized chaos that the billionaire found to be of great comfort as he thought. After disarming the bomb, the panic within him withered away, leaving his mind full of… other things.

He thought back to what he’d said. Would he really do anything for Peter? Would he kill someone in cold blood? Technically, Peter wasn’t even  _ his _ kid. Tony didn’t even know at what point he’d started thinking of him as such. Sure, they trained together and spent time together, but lately Peter always seemed jittery around him. He had to give the kid credit for how well he played it off; Most people would miss the minute changes, but Tony’s paranoia cursed his mind to notice every twitch, breath, and look that seemed even remotely out of place.

Speaking of which, Tony could feel the periodic glances of T’Challa in his direction. They hadn’t spoken since the tunnel, and Tony wasn’t sure if he wanted or cared to. So what if the king was mad at him? He’d done what was right in the moment. Sure,it might’ve been a  _ little _ overkill, and maybe a bit unethical, but it had been worth it, right? ...Right?

His train of thought shattered when he heard a familiar voice greeting Shuri. Tony instantly felt warmer at the sound of small footsteps approaching him, and Peter tentatively edged into Tony’s vision. “Hey.”

“Hey kiddo,” Tony grinned and scooted over to make space for Peter. He set the device in his hand on the table. The device had a screen with a small keyboard underneath it, and Tony had removed the back panel to access the wiring.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked. His fingers touched the screen, and it lit up with a password request. Tony motioned to the screen with his screwdriver.

“I’m trying to hack into this. I think it’s a GPS of some sort. The buyer had it on her,” Tony considered the kid next to him. “Wanna help?”

“Sure,” Peter shrugged. He picked up the GPS and flipped it over, looking at the back. The wires intertwined like spaghetti, but he could make out the general mechanical setup. “Where do we start?”

“See that little diamond? We need to get that panel out.” The engineer gently grabbed Peter’s warm hand and moved his finger to it. Peter took the screwdriver from him, nudging the wires aside to reach it. Tony noticed the way he bit his lip when he concentrated on pulling out the minute screws. His hand slowly moved to Peter’s back, resting there reassuringly. Peter pretended not to notice the subtle touch.

“Got it,” Peter mumbled. He wedged the head under the panel to release it.

“Good. Now attach this wire to it,” Tony spoke soothingly, and he felt Peter lean back into his hand as he reached for the wire. A screen popped up with lines of code.

“You know what to do?”

“Yeah. I got it.” Peter easily hacked through the code and reversed the gps signal to find the source. He chuckled in disbelief. “That was… surprisingly easy. We got a lead."

“Hell yeah we do. You just had to know where to look. Good job, Pete.” Tony slung an arm across his shoulders. Peter looked up at him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tony confirmed. Peter couldn’t prevent the proud smile that spread across his face, and he leaned into Tony’s side. Peter opened his mouth to say something else, but the moment was interrupted by Hawkeye.

“You found something?” Clint asked. Tony withdrew his arm from Peter’s shoulders and motioned to the screen.

“Peter backtracked this GPS. There’s a ping somewhere in Azania,” Tony explained. Clint sent an approving nod towards the teenager.

“Good! Why don’t you take this over to Shuri then?” Clint suggested. Peter hesitantly glanced up at Tony, but grabbed the device and walked over to the Wakandan genius.

“Total buzzkill,” Tony said once he thought Peter went far enough not to hear.

“I’d say we’re even, but we’re not,” Clint shrugged. Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, anxiety beginning to dwell in his chest.

“Right. You’re still mad about that.”

“About you throwing me in the raft? Yeah. I just now got off house arrest, Stark.” Tony winced at the harsh tone and use of his last name.

“My fight was never with you, Clint.”

“I know.” Clint sighed, although Tony could still hear the annoyance in his voice. Tony rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m gonna, uh, head to bed. It’s already midnight,” Tony mumbled, maneuvering around the archer. He headed to suggest Peter sleep as well, but stopped. Peter’s eyes lit up as Shuri chattered with him about some of her inventions, and his mouth was agape as he explored the lab. Tony didn’t have the heart to pull him away. He’d come up when he was ready. Half an hour later, the two teenagers were still geeking out.

“Attach this to any car, and I can drive it from here,” Shuri explained. Peter caught the device with ease.

“That’s awesome! This would’ve been so helpful when I fought this flying vulture dude who-” Peter paused to cough a bit. “Tried to steal this plane.” Shuri tilted her head a little.

“You okay?”

“What? Oh! It’s just a cold,” Peter turned his head away to conceal the blush spreading across his cheeks. He didn’t want more people to know about his… condition. Shuri touched her kimoyo beads, secretly running a scan on him. When Peter turned back to face her, he suddenly became aware of how tired he was.

“I’m gonna head up. Talk in the morning?” Peter handed the device back, and Shuri subtly ensured that her bead came into contact with his arm as she took it.

“For sure,” Shuri grinned. Peter returned the smile before heading to the guest quarters. When the boy was gone, the scientist pulled up her screen to see the results.  _ Oh _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side Note: I know we've been on 52 days remaining for FOREVER, but I promise time is moving forward. Things will speed up relatively soon.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the team transitions to follow their next lead, Tony struggles to harmonize with Peter, and Shuri meddles where she may not be wanted.

**51 Days Remaining**

“Brother?” Shuri trotted a bit to catch up with her brother in the hall.

“Yes, Shuri?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something… Peter, specifically.”

“Spider-Man?” T’Challa stopped walking.

“He’s… sick. I might be able to help, but I don’t know how to ask,” Shuri fidgeted with a bracelet on her wrist.

“Sick how? If it’s just a cold, I’m sure it’ll pass.”

“He’s terminally ill, actually. I think it might have to do with the terrorists,” Shuri admitted. “I secretly scanned him last night, but I don’t really have enough information yet.” Black Panther narrowed his eyes, thinking back to the previous day.

_“You breathe in another whiff of this stuff, and it might kill you,” Stark had said, moments after physically pushing the kid further from the bomb, as if that made a difference._

Tony said “another” whiff, meaning this wasn’t the first time Peter was exposed to it. Things started to make more sense to the king. If Peter really was dying, it explained some of the billionaire’s erratic behavior.

“I just didn’t tell him I ran a test on him, so I just don’t know how to bring it up. I don’t want to scare him off,” Shuri said. T’Challa frowned, remembering the crazed intensity Stark seemed to have about this whole mission. He seemed a little unstable to be honest.

“I’m sure they’re aware of it, Shuri. If Peter has not mentioned it, I would not bring it up.”

“But I like him. He’s a pretty lit dude, and I can help,” Shuri looked up at him in confusion.

“I know you can. But if it hasn’t been said, they must not want you to know. If their overall mission fails, we can offer to help, but it might be intrusive otherwise,” T’Challa warned. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to assist the Avengers, he just didn’t trust Tony Stark. As irrational as it may be, a small part of him worried that Stark would retaliate against Shuri if they failed.

“Are you sure?” Shuri asked. The king nodded and resumed his walk to the dining hall.

“For now. Although it is cute that you like him,” T’Challa smirked. Shuri smacked him on the arm.

“Not in that way, T’Challa!” She rolled her eyes and pushed the door open.

Sunlight filtered into the extravagant room through floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the golden city below, and some of the joint UN-Avengers team milled about grabbing brunch. The royal palace had laid out a small variety of food to feed the crew, for which Tony had thanked the staff profusely.

Shuri trailed behind T’Challa, but her brother got into some boring diplomatic conversation, so she searched the room. Peter sat between Mr.Stark and Agent Norris, who Shuri got well acquainted with the night before. Both adults listened as the youngest Avenger babbled on about something, and besides the occasional cough, he seemed to be fine. Satisfied, Shuri approached and plopped down across from Peter.

“Good morning,” She smiled.

“Hi Shuri!” His eyes lit up. Tony sent the princess a look of gratitude as Peter abandoned whatever he’d been rambling about. As much as the man loved to hear Peter’s voice, sometimes he got stuck on a topic for inhuman periods of time.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah! Your beds here are really lit. Seriously. It felt like sleeping on a cloud,” Peter complimented.

“That’s good. You need all the sleep you can get right now,” Tony chimed. Peter glanced at Shuri and looked down at his food, blushing. He didn’t need more people to be privy to this. Things were silent for a moment. Tony furrowed his eyebrows. Did he say something wrong?

“I’m going to grab something to eat,” Shuri awkwardly got up. Luckily, their end of the table was closest to the food table, so Shuri didn’t have to go too far.

“Are you feeling any better?” Tony asked once he  _thought_  Shuri was far enough (she wasn’t).

“No,” Peter shrugged, toying with his food. “Unless my body suddenly fights it off overnight, I don’t expect to.”

“That’s true, but just, let us know if you need anything, okay?” Norris threaded her fingers through his hair just once before dropping her hand after a look from Stark. Shuri’s own hand hovered by a plate. This felt wrong. She grabbed just a croissant and swung back by the table.

“Y’know what? I just remembered I have something urgent in the lab. I’ll catch up with you later,” Shuri flashed a smile and hurried out of the room. Peter watched her go with a hint of confusion but didn’t get to say anything because T’Challa approached.

“Do you know where you are going next?” The king asked. Tony snapped to get Clint’s attention.

“Barton? Come over here for a sec?” Stark called. Clint just stared at him for a moment, but reluctantly moved closer- although he did choose the seat farthest from the billionaire.

“What?” Clint’s tone wouldn’t seem aggravated to most, but Tony knew him too well to miss it. Tony clenched his left hand under the table.

“We tracked that GPS, but it turned out to just lead back to the center of a small city. Any ideas on how to proceed?” Tony asked. “You’ve got the most experience with this.”

“They’re probably hiding out somewhere in the vicinity. Not sure where, but we can do some reconnaissance when we get there. Wherever their base is, it’s probably outside the city. They’d need a lot of space to manufacture those bombs.” Clint shrugged.

“They would likely find refuge in the surrounding forests or mountains. Northwest Azania is not as populated, so they could easily hide there,” Black Panther explained.

“That’s a lot of area to search,” Tony frowned. “We would need a way to narrow the window.” The table thought for a minute.

“What about cell phone pings?” Peter asked quietly.

“No. These guys are pros. They’d be smarter than that.” Clint protested.

“Maybe the older ones. But in this day and age, with an operation that large, there’s got to be at least a couple millennials trying to check their social media,” Peter argued. If the adults always complained about their phone obsessions, then there must be some truth in it. Might as well use it to their advantage.

“Pete’s right. We might be able to triangulate a location, but it’ll take a bit. I can get FRIDAY going on it,” Tony sent the kid a genuine smile. “We can head over there in the meantime.”

“Fine. I’m going to go get my stuff together,” Clint got up from the table, followed shortly by T’Challa. The others got up to do the same, but Tony laid a hand on Peter’s wrist.

“Need any help getting your stuff together?” He asked. Peter breathed out through his nose.

“No. I got it. I’m not a cripple, y’know,” The teenager radiated annoyance as he swept out of the room. Tony tilted his head. He just wanted to help if Peter didn’t feel well. He glanced at Norris, who just took a quiet sip from her drink and avoided eye contact.

“I don’t get it..,” Tony mumbled. Norris stood up.

“You’re treating him like glass. Try treating him like a capable human being for once and see what happens,” She shook her head. Tony narrowed his eyes. He wanted to comment- to ask how she qualified to critique their relationship, but nothing came out. “Just try talking to him about all this, okay?”

Norris left him, and once again, Tony was alone. The man buried his head in his hands, focusing on deep breaths. God, he was just as bad as his own father. Tony’s chest tightened at the thought of his dad, and he quickly pushed it all out of his mind. Now wasn’t the time for that kind of breakdown- not that he ever thought it  _was_  the time to reflect on his relationship with Howard Stark, but he digressed. If he was going to be a shitty father, Tony figured, he may as well be a productive one. Tony Stark struggled to his feet and trudged towards the exit.

* * *

 

The team stood by the quinjet, loading the last couple boxes onto the plane. Peter lifted one of the heavier ones, being well aware that he was the only one there with enhanced strength. After securing it in place on the plane, Peter walked back into the sunlight of the landing platform, and his eyes caught a flash of orange coming toward him.

“Peter!” Shuri called, slowing down once she knew they weren’t about to leave. Peter waved and met her halfway.

“Hey Shur, what’s up?”

“I’m glad I caught you before you guys left. I wanted to give you something.” Shuri said. Peter’s brows furrowed.

“Okay?” He waited as Shuri reached into her pocket.

“I grabbed this kimoyo bracelet for you. We can stay in touch this way,” Shuri explained. Peter’s gazed fixed on the black beads with white markings. She held her hand out, palm up. It took a moment for the gesture to register, and Peter gave his hand to her. Shuri slid the bracelet onto his wrist, and it fit perfectly.

“This is awesome,” Peter whispered, bringing his wrist close to his face to inspect it. Shuri grinned, grabbing his forearm and pointing to one of the beads.

“Tap this one, and it’ll come up with an interface that’ll show you how to use the rest of the beads, got it?” She touched it lightly and it glowed. Peter nodded vigorously.

“Yeah. I’ll play with it on the flight over. Thanks, Shuri! Really!” Peter’s lips parted slightly as he looked on, noting the smooth grains and intricate shapes down on each bead. Shuri looked past him to see T’Challa and Tony shaking hands.

“You’re welcome. Stay in touch and let me know if you need anything, kay? Remember I’m an expert in both tech and biology,” Shuri said pointedly. Peter followed her gaze to see the rest of the team boarding. The two stood there for a moment, unsure if they should hug or handshake or something.

“Okay. Uh, see ya!” Peter smiled and jogged to the ship, catching up with Tony right as he reached the ramp. Tony glanced over his shoulder to see Shuri watching in the distance he smirked.

“What?” Peter asked.

“Oh, nothing.”

Shuri waited until she was alone in her lab before pressed on the newest bead on her kimoyo bracelet. A small hologram popped up, showing a live feed of Peter’s help. No one would find out about it- she was too good for that. Shuri didn’t know why, but something told her he’d be back, and she wanted to be ready when he was.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team has a day to rest, and our heroes move closer to being at peace with one another.

**50 Days Remaining**

The African sun was hot and humid, but it didn’t bother Peter in the slightest. The fresh air seemed to be helping his lungs, so he hadn’t been coughing as much today. He’d sat in the shade near a stream for the better part of the morning, working on some homework that Ned emailed him. According to his best friend, one of Peter’s teachers was concerned about him. Peter didn’t keep it a secret that he liked school. Whereas most people hated the drone of boring classes and homework, Peter saw each class as a chance to learn something, and he sported an insatiable curiosity. Whenever he missed school, it meant he missed out on learning something new, and it took a lot to make the kid stay home for a day- usually Peter only skipped school if he got the flu or Spider-Man was urgently needed to save someone. The aforementioned teacher knew his persistence, and concluded he must be  _ really _ sick if he was going on his third consecutive sick day, so he asked Ned- the obviously inseparable best friend- to forward Peter his well wishes and classwork. No pressure existed to complete the work, as the school sported a gratuitous make-up policy, but the man knew Peter wouldn’t want to fall behind.

Peter completed most of the homework, but he felt the process more tedious than usual. Most of the time he’d read his history book enthusiastically, his imagination filling in the gaps that the book declined to share. For example, he’d imagine how a political figure reacted upon hearing significant news, or how animated and festive a city must’ve been after a great triumph. But today, he just lacked the interest. Peter didn’t know why the change occured, but it did. Some part of him just wondered what the point of all this was. The whole point of school and learning was to use that knowledge to improve the world, and he didn’t have enough time to create some life-saving innovation. If he was going to die anyway, why did it matter? 

Peter found himself consistently distracted by the quiet, gently flowing water of the stream, the way that it dipped and rose in minute rapids. At one point, he even spotted an antelope grazing some plants in the woods. It noted the human, staring for a few moments, but eventually determined he wasn’t a threat and continued on. The reflective state felt unusual to a teenager who never stopped moving, but he appreciated the time to think. Everything felt so tense lately, and in the frenzy of this mission, Peter never really took the time to process it.

Around 11 am, Peter gave up on his homework, concluding that Spider-Man mattered more. The whole reason he wanted to do well in school was to help people later on in his life. When he put the suit on, he could help people immediately, so that’s what he was going to do. Stopping these terrorists would save a lot of lives, and maybe Peter could make that his legacy. He tucked the laptop Tony gave him in his backpack and threaded through the woods to their campsite.

The team had set up camp in the mountainous forest near the town, preferring to stay out of sight, lest they alert the terrorists to their presence. A few of the UN agents headed into town that morning to see if they could dig anything up, but they hadn’t returned yet, so when Peter arrived, he saw everyone preparing for lunch. His stomach urged him to join them, and he scampered over. He didn’t expect to see James Rhodes.

“Mr. Rhodes?” Peter asked, an incredulous expression spreading across his face. Rhodes smiled at him.

“Hey, Peter. You can call me Rhodey, remember?”

“Right. Sorry,” Peter blushed.

“It’s fine. What’s up?” The man leaned forward in his seat.

“Nothing. I just didn’t know you were coming,” Peter shifted his weight awkwardly. Rhodey shrugged.

“Yeah… I didn’t find anything in India, so Tones suggested I join you guys over here,” Rhodes explained. Distantly, Peter wondered if the colonel’s presence was due to sheer friendliness and indifference or if Iron Man lacked faith in the team they already had. At the sound of Peter’s voice and the mention of his own name, Tony stepped out of a tent.

“There you are, kid. Did you eat yet?” Tony asked. Peter shook his head. “No? Go grab a big sandwich.”

Peter drifted those few feet away to make himself a plate from the bags of bread and lunch meat. He picked up a large water bottle as well to quench his consistently dry throat. After taking a decent amount of food, he returned to the two men.

“Peter is never  _ not _ hungry, I swear. I don’t know where all that food goes!” Tony poked him in the stomach, drawing a small laugh out of him.

“Hey, when you have a super-metabolism, come back and talk to me,” Peter took a pointedly large bite out of his sandwich. Rhodes just smiled, eating some of his own.

* * *

That afternoon, Tony approached the supply canopy to work on his suit, and he encountered Hawkeye making some arrows. Tony swallowed. “Oh. Hey.”

“Hey,” Clint answered, not bothering to look up from the boardhead he was sharpening. His calloused hand unconsciously tightened around the tool in his hand. Tony crept around him and grabbed a screwdriver from the box. A few screws later, a panel on the metal suit popped off.  Tony fiddled with some wires, thumbing through the colors as if looking for something- even though he knew this suit by heart. After a minute, he quietly realized that he hadn’t even done anything. Clint focused on a minute divot at the base of the arrowhead, near where it connected to the shaft. It wouldn’t affect his trajectory at all, but it gave the man something to focus on instead of the billionaire standing across from him.

It was silent as both men worked- or rather, tried to work. Both remained more fixated on distracting themselves from the other. Tony centered himself, thinking about the smooth metal under his fingertips and the familiar smell of lubricant oil lurking in the joints of the suit. Clint glanced at him and felt anger swell in his chest, so he looked away. He scrubbed at the divot. Tony felt the eyes on his back without having to look, and his heart thumped against his ribs. Even the birds seemed to hide from the thick tension between the two men. Tony’s screwdriver slipped from his hand, landing in the dirt, and the motion snapped Clint out of it. He reached for a new arrow to sharpen. When Tony crouched down to pick up his tool, he stayed there for a moment, hesitating.

“Barton. I’m… I’m sorry,” He muttered. Clint inhaled sharply, but slowly released the breath. He kept his eyes trained on the new arrowhead, choosing the words carefully.

“You did what you thought was right at the time.”

“I know. But… I was out of line.”

“Is that what you convinced yourself of? You were following orders. I’ve done the same,” Clint shrugged. Tony eyed him, confused by his agreeance.

“So… are we cool?”

“No.”

“...oh,” Tony didn’t bother to mask the disappointment in his voice. He yearned for the old days. When the team could just be together effortlessly- when they could just appreciate each others’ presence.

“I shouldn’t be that mad at you, but since you took me to the raft, I associate it with you,” Clint explained. It was hard to admit, but he’d spent a lot of time reflecting over the two years of house arrest, and his wife insisted before he left that he at least try to reconcile. Not that Clint wanted to, but he knew talking things out would be better in the long run. Tony nodded in understanding, despite the guilt knocking on his door.

“At least you weren’t there long,” Tony offered hopefully. He returned to the suit and fixed the wire he should’ve started with. Clint sunk his head, letting a hand caress his own hair.

“That didn’t matter, Stark. It was the- the hopelessness that killed me. I worried I would never see my wife or my kids again- never get to hold them in my arms again. It took months to stop having nightmares that I was back there. Do you even know how terrible that feels?” The question was rhetorical. Clint knew better. Last he checked, Tony didn’t have a family. But Tony’s thoughts drifted to Pepper and Peter and the nightmares from New York. Something thick settled in his throat. He opened his mouth, but it took awhile for the words to come out.

“I do.”

Clint’s face twitched, and his fingers froze in their ministrations. Within a millisecond, he masked the surprise with a long stroke of the sharpening blade against the arrowhead. Tony cleared his throat.

“I hope we can get back. To the way things were, I mean,” Tony muttered.

“Me too,” Clint agreed. “We’ll get there. It’ll just take some time. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Tony began to say something else, but it was then that he noticed Agent Norris coming towards them. He shoved the solemn look off his face, replacing it with the playboy smile he’d perfected. “Hey.”

“Hey Tony. Hi Clint. Have either of you seen Peter?” Norris asked, eyes glancing around as if she would find him hiding behind the two men. The sudden brightness compared to the previously deep conversation jarred Tony, and it took him a minute to respond.

“I think he’s somewhere in the trees,” Tony glanced upwards. Clint made a face that Tony didn’t miss. He smirked.

“What? You used to hide out in the highest possible area too. That’s why I built the little overlook over the living room in the Tower. It was your nest.”

“I used to,” Clint huffed bitterly. Tony shrugged. Peter used the nest now anyway.

“Why would he be up there?” Norris furrowed her brows. Tony felt his smile turn more genuine at the thought of the kid scampering through the trees.

“Considering how he sticks to everything, this place is probably a giant playground to him,” Tony said. Norris nodded in understanding.

“Gotcha. I’ll walk around and see if I spot him up there,” She sent a warm smile to both Avengers and wandered off. Clint noted the way Tony watched her go.

“She seems close with Peter,” Hawkeye commented. Tony nodded slowly.

“Yeah. He seems… comfortable with her” Tony hesitated. “What do you know about her?”

“Mary Norris? Uh… I think she’s a relatively young agent- late 20s, early 30s perhaps, but she’s one of the best in her field. My handler mentioned something about her being really sweet as well. I think he’s attracted to her, to be honest, but she’s taken.”

“Okay,” Tony turned his chin up a little bit. She was probably good for Peter to have around, especially if he trusted her. “Whatever makes him happy.”

* * *

“Peter?” The voice wafted to his ears long before he could see the woman. Peter stuck to the trunk of the tree he was perched on and worked his way towards the source. He finally found her standing in a clearing below him, completely unsuspecting. Perfect. The mischievous teenager attached a web to a thick branch and slowly lowered himself. He stopped when he was aligned with her back.

“Boo,” He said. Norris jumped, barely containing her yelp.

“You little-” She shoved him in the shoulder, causing him to swing a bit. He just laughed, grinning so that all of his stark white teeth showed.

“I totally got you.” There was a joyous, youthful twinkle in his eyes. He cleared his throat, which had become hoarse from lack of use earlier.

“Yeah, you did. What are you even doing up there?” Norris changed the subject, eager to hide her embarrassment.

“I like it. Gets you a good view,” He paused for a moment, debating. “Want to come up?”

“Uh... maybe not.”

“Why not?”

“What if I fall? What if  _ you _ fall?” Norris asked, putting her hands on her hips. Peter smiled a little as the motion reminded him of Aunt May.

“I won’t fall. Promise! And I won’t let you fall either. Come on!” He urged. Norris eyed him warily before switching her gaze to look around. Peter smirked. “Afraid someone’s going to see?”

“I’m just supposed to be a responsible adult here, so maybe it’s not the best example to-“

“You’re an adult. You make your own decisions,” Peter pointed out. He flipped down from his current bat-like state and extended a single hand to her. “Come on. Pleeeaaassee?” Norris took a deep breath because damn, no one could resist those puppy dog eyes. She slowly reached out to grab it, and his hand gripped her wrist firmly.

Peter shot off a fresh web, pulling the pair up to a medium-high tree. After ensuring Norris was secure on a tree limb, he let go to pull himself up next to her. He stood on the limb, walking along it like a tightrope. Norris watched him, a hand drifting out to catch him in case he fell- not that he needed it. Norris gave him a weak smile, but she was staring at the ground anxiously.

“This isn’t too bad, right?” Peter asked, concern fluttering across his face. She shrugged. “I won’t let you fall.”

“I know. I just don’t like heights,” Norris muttered. She avoided his gaze, blushing slightly. Peter pressed his lips together in thought, and he carefully sat down next to her.

“And they made you a field agent?” Peter raised his eyebrows. Norris chuckled and shook her head. It wasn’t quite like that.

“Just temporarily. I never wanted to be- it feels too dangerous, and my husband hates it, but they said I need to have some field experience before I can be promoted,” She explained. Her boss had a long conversation with her about it, explaining that she had a lot of potential, but that the field agents would struggle to listen to her if she couldn’t communicate to them with her own experience. The field is never as straightforward as it seems, and nothing goes as planned… a lack of understanding in this area from supervisors could lead to agents dying, and that was the last thing she wanted.

“So you get anxious on missions?” Peter asked. Norris hesitated, but remembered that the kid opened up to her, so it was only fair to do the same. She nodded. Peter’s eyes softened, and he set a hand on her shoulder. “We’re not gonna let anything happen to you, got it? I promise.”

“Promise?” She asked.

“Yeah. I promise. I can pinky swear if you want, but you seem a little old for that,” Peter laughed. The sound relaxed the woman.

“We don’t have to. But do also promise you won’t stop being you. I know you’ve got a lot going on, but you’re kind and funny and care about everyone. It’s why you’re so amazing. Don’t ever stop being that, got it?”

“Got it.” Peter promised. Norris smiled and ruffled his hair. The touch was warm and soft, but Peter still rolled his eyes and pushed her hand away gently. “Ugh, you’re such a mom!” It wasn’t meant as an insult, but as a compliment, and Norris knew it. Peter stood up to walk along the branch again before she could muss his hair again.

“I do want to be one,” Norris admitted, and Peter saw that same sparkle in her eyes. “My husband and I plan to have some once I’m back in the office. He even offered to work from home, so I don’t have to sacrifice my job. In the meantime, we just volunteer with kids.”

“Well, you’ll be great when you do,” Peter assured. The conversation dropped for a short while, both people lost in thought. Suddenly, Peter seemed to slip, starting to fall. Norris’s eyes widened, and she reached for him, but it was too late.

“Whoa!” Peter lurched to the side, making as if he were about to fall, but instead of falling off the branch, his feet stuck to it so he hung upside down. He smirked. “I got you!” Norris huffed in frustration.

“Ugh! You are such a brat!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up with a lot of characterization before they make another move against the terrorists. Next time, they'll take on the big one.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team goes for the big one- except they weren't as ready as they thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! I am so, so sorry this took so long to update. I try to post every Sunday, but first, I skipped an update to focus on another fic I just posted called "Break a Leg" (you should check it out). Then, I moved into school and couldn't find the time to write for about two weeks. It killed me on the inside XD But now we're finally back and I should get back to weekly updates.
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTE: For this chapter, I changed the formatting a little. This chapter is moreso told from Peter's POV, and has a mixture of talk over the comms and in person. For this chapter, if it's a conversation over the comms, the quote will be italicized. If he can hear it in person, it's not italicized. However, note that all members of the team have their comms always on throughout the entire chapter, so if something is said towards a person in the immediate vicinity, everyone else will still hear it.

**49 Days Remaining**

Peter carefully balanced on his tree limb, looking out at the base before him. He could barely make it out, even with his enhanced senses and mask on. Even with though there was  _ supposed _ to be a full moon, the thick, dark clouds above barricaded any precious light from entry, and the entire team needed night vision lenses to even walk through the woods. It appeared as if the terrorist stuck strictly to gas lamps, making the base near impossible to discern from above, as it was only one floor. Luckily, Peter’s cell phone idea worked, and they triangulated a location that the scout agents verified. The conditions weren’t optimal, but this was the best shot they had. If they waited another night, the terrorists might launch another attack during the preceding day, and 3am tended to be the optimal attack time. From what the scouts figured, they’d be infiltrating drowsy workers at the end of their shift while still leaving enough time to clean up before the next watch shift would unwittingly arrive to find themselves in an ambush. The ambush came later though. For now, they had to focus on the first half of the plan.

_ “Is everyone set? Speak up if you aren’t,” _ Hawkeye’s voice buzzed over the comms. No one made a sound, but Spider-Man still brushed his fingers against his back-up web fluid cartridges, reassuring himself that they were there.

_ “Make sure safeties are off, mags filled, positions covered. Try to minimize fatalities,” _ Batair reminded.

_ “Thanks, Batair. South is ready to go,” _ Peter could make out Clint nodding knowingly below him.

_ “East,” _ Iron Man confirmed, glancing around at his team.

_ “West.” _ Rhodes moved to activate his favorite shoulder missiles but looked at the base and thought better of it.

_ “We’re good on the north side,” _ Norris said. Spider-Man glanced across the building and his eyes picked up on the movement of her squad. She had three people with her, and they were just charging straight into the surveillance room. That should be enough. He hoped.

_ “Go on my command,” _ Rhodes started counting. Spider-Man felt an itch in his throat and held his breath. He wasn’t about to blow the element of surprise for them. When Team Iron Man breached the east side of the base with a burst of noise, Peter let out a scratchy cough with relief, followed by a few more.

_ “Arachnid, you coming?” _ Hawkeye chimed. Peter cleared his throat, feeling the blush spread across his cheeks even when no one could see him.

_ “Yeah. Right behind you,” _ Spider-Man shot a web to a nearby tree and took a deep breath. Time to let the chaos begin. The teenager landed with a roll near the front entrance of the base. The first job was to take out the men on the perimeter. He shot a web, grabbing a guy’s foot and pulling it out from under him. Peter barely looked as he webbed him to the ground. One of the UN agents kicked a gun away from the sticky terrorist before running to help a teammate take down the other guard posted at the front.

Peter heard a grunt and looked to his right. Agent Batair wrestled on the ground with a terrorist while another lanky one tried to figure out if he could shoot without hurting his friend. Damn. Spider-Man took off towards them, using a splitter web to slingshot himself at the lanky man. His enhanced hearing made out the sound of ribs cracking over the all the sounds of fighting. The man cried out when he hit the ground.

“Shit. Sorry, that was harder than I meant,” Peter mumbled. Spider-Man webbed the man’s feet instead of his torso and stuck the man to the ground and the gun to the wall of the base. Batair grabbed the man he fought in a chokehold, trying to knock him out. Peter moved to help when he heard the arrow whiz by right as a gun went off. Spider-Man swung around to see a terrorist standing on the loading dock collapse, but turned back to Hawkeye to see one of their agents also on the ground. Peter was at the woman’s side in an instant.

“Are you ok?” Spider-Man asked as Karen ran an automatic scan. The bullet didn’t hit anything life-threatening, but it lodged itself firmly in her thigh. The woman moaned slightly.  _ “Agent Casey got hit.” _ No one responded for a moment, too absorbed in their own fighting. Iron Man’s team finished taking out the three other terrorists in the east loading dock, so the man responded first.

_ “Get her out of the area and make sure she’s safe,” _ Tony instructed. He breached the next area to find a plain breakroom with a man sleeping at the table. Tony rolled his eyes and let his fellow agents wake the man up by slamming him into the ground. Peter bit his lip, gunshots still ringing out in the base behind him. He grabbed Casey around the hips and helped her up. Officer Lee, who’d kicked the gun away from the earlier terrorist, ran to help. They got her into the woods and set down far enough to be safe.

“ _ We found one of their special ops teams. They’re good. Really good,”  _ Rhodes huffed over the comms. He dodged a blow from one that was  _ definitely _ enhanced. Two of his three team members were already unconscious.

_ “I’m on my way,” _ Spider-Man responded quickly, shooting a web. However, before it went taut, he was stopped.

_ “No. Stay with Casey,” _ Tony ordered. Peter loosened his grip.

_ “Lee’s got her. She’ll be fine,” _ He argued.

_ “Stay. I’ll help Rhodes,” _ Iron Man said.

_ “Already on it,” _ Hawkeye ran into the room, turning the entry into a slide just in time to miss the blade that went over his head. A foot went for his side, but Clint caught it and pulled it across his chest to throw the assailant off balance. She expertly rolled over him, landing on the ground to his left. Ok. Yeah. These were definitely trained assassins, Hawkeye concluded.

_ “There’s still more of them,” _ Iron Man reported, blasting a terrorist back with a concussive repulsor. He appreciated that Barton had Rhodes’ back because he wasn’t reaching the west side of the base anytime soon.  _ “Norris. How’s it coming on their systems?” _

_ “I’m working on it. I’m looking for the comms to take them down but these guys are good,” _ Norris typed as quickly as she could, trying to keep up with the system displayed on her screen. Her team had infiltrated into the surveillance room just across the way from the back entrance they’d burst through. The three agents with her subdued two of the technicians, but one wasn't so lucky. Her hand fought not to cover her nose as the smell of blood permeated her brain, making her want to vomit. She stood carefully, making sure her shoes didn’t come too close to the growing puddle. Instead, she focused on the lines of code. That mattered more. Two of the men with her stood watch outside the door to make sure she could get her job done.

Spider-Man knelt down in the dirt where Lee leaned Casey up against a tree. Peter moved Lee’s hands to give him a break from putting pressure on the wound. Distantly, he could still hear the sounds of fighting from the direction of the base. Peter looked between Casey and the way back, thinking hard. He should stay to help her, but if he didn’t go… more people might get hurt. Other agents… Norris… Peter felt his chest clench up in anxiety, his mind flickered to Tony’s order, and his jaw hardened.

Spider-Man webbed the gauze onto Casey’s leg to keep the pressure there. He stood up, fist clenching and unclenching as the adrenaline continued to course through his body. Peter was sick of this. He was a capable Avenger, and he’d prove it, the teenager decided. He’d go back and make sure everyone was alright. He wasn’t about to go out quietly, that was for sure. And if Tony didn’t trust him? Fine. It hurt, but he was Spider-Man before Mr.Stark even showed up. He didn’t need him. Peter grabbed an extra web cartridge, reloading his right web shooter.

Lee looked at him questioningly, but Spider-Man made a ‘shh’ motion with his finger, tilting his head back to the base. Lee understood, and he knew it wasn’t his place to make decisions for the teenager, so he gave a thumbs up to promise he’d take care of Agent Casey. Peter nodded gratefully and dashed back to the base.

Iron Patriot and Hawkeye still fixated on taking down the assassins they were faced with. One seemed to have enhanced strength and speed, the blond one Clint faced when he came in had some sort of sword kink, and the third remaining team member was ruthless with a gun. Several shots pinged off the Iron Patriot armor before the guy got a bullet to graze Hawkeye’s arrow arm. It didn’t embed in his skin, but it wasn’t a shallow cut either. Luckily, they had succeeded in taking down someone who appeared to specialize with gadgets. Understanding the power balance, the other UN members had abandoned the room, leaving the two Avengers to deal with the three assassins. Hawkeye grunted as the blond sword assassin headbutted him into the wall, and Rhodes felt the armor around his wrist warp slightly at the bulky man’s superstrength grip on the armor. He only let go when Rhodes blasted him back with his repulsor.  The close fight powered on, and the pair was winning, but this would take a while.

Iron Man took down the last two opponents he could make out with his tech, but he knew more the terrorists were bound to be around. He had a bad feeling about this- there were more terrorists than he’d expected, and from what he’d seen in the base, they seemed well set-up. It was almost quarter to 4, and the hopefully unsuspecting convoy with the next shift would be arriving soon. In order for this to work, the communications would need to be down, and Norris needed more time. Tony went for the southeast loading dock, planning to get an aerial view for an ETA on the convoy. That was, until he nearly bumped into Spider-Man. Damn it!

“What are you doing? I told you to stay!” Iron Man hissed, running another scan for any threats in the area. Spider-Man stood his ground, mentally swearing that he hadn’t avoided his mentor.

“Lee’s got Casey covered, and it sounds like you could use a hand.”

“We’ve got this,” Tony denied.

_ “Actually,” _ Rhodes grunted with another harsh blow. _ “Help would be nice. Don’t need it; wouldn’t mind it.” _ Tony ignored him, but Spider-Man made to move.

“I’ll come help,” Peter promised, but Iron Man stood in his path.

“No. Go back to the woods.” Peter rolled his eyes.

“No. Give me a valid reason why,” He challenged. Tony clenched his jaw, trying to think of the best way to phrase his concerns for the kid’s wellbeing. Instead, being the royal dumbass he is, all that came out was some sass.

“Because I said so. You need to start obeying orders.” The harsh tone fell on deaf ears.

“Then you need to stop babying me.”

“I’m not-”

“If you want me to listen to you like everybody else, treat me like them,” Peter dared. “I can handle myself.”

“I do treat you like them.”

_ “Guys, you’re clogging the comms,” _ Hawkeye warned tentatively when he found a moment to breathe. He didn’t want to get involved in this shitshow, but it was a safety issue. Peter took a deep breath.

“I know you’d blame yourself if I got hurt, but if anyone else dies, that’s on both of us,” Peter reasoned. Tony breathed in through his nose and out through the mouth. “You have to let me do this.  _ Please _ .”

“Go back.” The words were said coldly, without an ounce of hesitance, and they pierced Peter in the chest. He might’ve said he didn’t care, but that was a big, fat lie. Tony would never trust him. He’d always just be the baby burden. Spider-Man felt adrenaline stinging his chest, spurring him on.

“No.  _ You _ go back.”

“Peter-”

“NO,” Peter started walking past Tony, but Iron Man grabbed onto his wrist, stopping him. “Let go.”

“No,” Tony said this time.

_ “Guys-” _ Clint warned. Spider-Man pivoted to glare at Iron Man’s mask.

“Let. Go,” Peter demanded.

_ “Wasn’t the southwest large room supposed to be a lab?” Someone asked. _

_ “Yeah, why?” _

“You’re not thinking straight,” Tony reasoned.

_ “It’s not-” _

“Like you ever are,” Peter said.

_ “-office.” _

_ “Damn. We must have outdated blueprints. _

“I can’t let anything happen to-” Tony started.

“What? Does everyone else’s lives matter less than mine?” Peter questioned.

_ “-lab is just offices, and I don’t-” _

“If you die, that’s on-” Peter cut him off with a cry of anger, trying to take his wrist away.

_ “Shit. I just found a staircase.” _

_ “What? There’s only supposed to be one floor according to the-” _

“I’m already dying!” Peter yelled.

_ “-might be more hostiles in-” _

“Then save what’s left!” Tony cried.

_ “There’s 4 hos-” _ The next communication was cut off by a burst of gunfire coming from inside the base. Spider-Man had to get in there to help, but he couldn’t get out of the iron grip.

“What if I want to make the best of what’s left?” Why didn’t Mr.Stark understand? He wanted to help people. He  _ needed _ to.

_ “We need backup over by-” _

“I swear to god if you don’t turn around and-” Tony started.

“You’ll what, ground me?” Peter yanked on his arm again, but the tight hand around his wrist didn’t relent. More gunfire could be heard inside the base, as well as a few bangs.

“If that’s what it takes to keep you-” Tony started.

_ “Stark! Shut up! Where are-” _ Clint tried to ask.

“I’m not gonna die like your parents, Tony!” Peter yelled.

_ “-corridor.” _

_ “What? I can’t understand-” _

“Don’t you dare-” Tony’s hand unconsciously tightened around Spider-Man’s wrist, and Peter could feel the cool, metal fingers pressing into his skin through the suit.

“I did dare.” Peter twisted his wrist uncomfortably.

“Fuck you.” Tony snarled.

“Ooh, big boy words.” Peter taunted. “If you would just fucking trust me, i wouldn’t bring it out.”

_ “-trying to find you.” _

“I’m responsible for you!” Tony argued.

“Well you’re doing a shit job!,” Peter hissed, venom coursing through his veins.

_ “Oh fUCK! WE NE-” _ Gunshots silenced the plea, but Tony and Peter didn’t notice.

“Oh yeah? Then give me back the suit,” Tony demanded.

“Make me.” Peter ignored the threat, knowing that Tony wanted him in that suit more than Peter himself did.

_ “Wait!” _ Norris’s voice pierced Peter’s ear, breaking through his argumental trance. Forget this. He needed to help everyone with-

A shocked cry sticked up among the chaos and consistent popping gunfire of the comm. Peter’s chest tightened with anxiety, and he prayed no one is hurt. Next time tony retorted at him, he didn’t respond immediately. He heard Clint calling for status updates in the brief break in arguing. Three groups checked in. There should’ve been four.

_ “Control room is compromised. They’re all down.” _ It was Batair’s voice that time, and Spider-Man  _ knew _ he wasn’t originally slated for the surveillance room. He doesn’t waste time before finally using super-strength to break the grip on his wrist. sprinting past Tony. He has to get there. He saw a UN agent standing over a bleeding terrorist body in the hallway and shoved past, bursting into the control room. Batair was checking the pulse of someone on the ground. It wasn’t Norris. A choked sob caught his attention. 

“Norris!” Peter dropped to his knees at her side, hands flying to the woman’s stomach. He put his hands on the wound, and gushing blood washed over his fingers in a wave. Norris whimpered at the increased pressure, hand feebly coming up to paw at his wrists. Peter felt like someone stabbed him in the chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” Peter cried. Norris squirmed underneath him, but Spider-Man held her still. A mouse-like squeak escape from her. “I have to- I have to stop the bleeding. Okay?” She tossed her head back as the headache from blood loss spun the world round. She was turning pale, and fast.

“Karen?!” Peter asked.

“Bullet wound punctured the liver. Her chance of survival if you get to the hospital as soon as possible is 60%,” Karen reported. Peter tried to take a deep breath. 60% isn’t too bad, right?

“When can we get medical evac?” Spider-Man asked.

_ “Not until we clear this place out. Probably another half hour,” _ Someone reported. Peter clenched his teeth and hunched over Norris. That was too long. When she looked at him, her eyes seemed unfocused, but full of fear, and it rattled him. She was always so stable, so calm.

“‘m sorry,” Norris mumbled. Peter gave a high pitched laugh.

“For what? You’re fine. It’s okay, I promise. Karen says you’re gonna be just fine. You’re gonna be okay,” Peter stammered. “It’s-it’s just a small wound. I’m going to help you. Just stay awake. Stay here, okay? Don’t leave. Please...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Norris die? Will she live? Who knows? It's a toss-up. Either way, it ain't gonna be good. Hopefully, I'll have another chapter up next Sunday (as long as I'm not too distracted by the new Spider-Man game). This chapter also took me a long time to figure out due to drawing base blueprints and figuring out how to write the chaotic speaking-over one another towards the end.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just because you need to take a minute to breathe, doesn't mean life is going to let you. Peter learns this the hard way and then deals with the aftermath.

**49 Days Remaining**

 “Spider-Man!” Peter ignored the voice. It was a mile away, so what did it matter. His chest tightened as he stared at Norris’s face for any change in condition. Anything good. Anything that might give him hope. Her eyes bore back into his. The slickness of blood soaked through his gloves, and Spider-Man rebelled with more pressure, struggling to keep it at bay. Norris winced. 

 Peter felt a surge of adrenaline run through him. He wanted to run. To get as far from here as possible and take Norris with him- take her somewhere safe. His body tensed, ready to move, but then the muscles slacked. They wouldn’t make it out safely.

 “I’m sorry,” Peter tipped forward, hunching over her. “I didn’t- I’m sorry. I- you’re okay. I-I promise. Just don’t sleep. S-stay here. You’re okay, okay?” Peter clenched his eyes shut tightly. People lived through stuff like this all the time in movies, right? Right? They totally did. It’s fine. Norris is fine. He just- oh man. The compound. The attack. Now wasn’t the time. But he just- he couldn’t focus. He couldn’t move.

 Norris didn’t look like she was really there. Her eyes seemed dull, miles from their usual brightness. She was just an illusion under his fingers- a fading one. But he heard the frantic heartbeats and ragged breaths clawing their way out of her body. He felt the shudders in his arms, but he didn’t know which of them it was coming from. His name permeated the room again, but the soundwaves warbled uselessly in his ears.

 “Spider-Man,” Hawkeye quickly closed the distance between the door and duo, but when he put a hand on his shoulder, the kid didn’t even react. Clint’s eyes flickered to the woman on the ground, and his mouth drew into a grim line. He quickly signalled another agent to keep watch and sidestepped around Peter.

 “Hey,” Clint knelt down across from Peter, but he couldn’t read the kid’s face because of the mask. Hawkeye reached out, covering Spider-Man’s hands with his own. Peter looked up, but didn’t really see the man standing in front of him.

 “Peter,” Hawkeye grabbed his wrist, still tender from the iron grip Mr.Stark had on it earlier. The discomfort ripped him back to the present. Everything snapped into focus again. Spider-Man jolted as he remembered their precarious situation, and he glanced over his shoulder, searching for danger.

 “Spider-Man,” Hawkeye started. “The next convoy’s being to be here soon. We need you.” Peter stiffened at the mere thought of leaving Norris, and his fingers curled into the fabric of her shirt. His head swung side to side vigorously.

 “No. She… She needs…”

 “She needs medical attention. The evac team can’t come in until all the bad guys are secure. If you want to help her, you need to help us,” Hawkeye reasoned.

 “But- the bleeding…”

 “Agent Giordano was once a field medic for the Italian military,” Clint lied. “He’ll provide solid first aid.” Peter hesitated.

 “That convoy’s going to be here any minute, Pete. The less people that fight, the more people that are going to hurt. Spider-Man, if you want to be treated as a full Avenger, you need to act like one. We need you. Outside. Please,” Hawkeye said. Peter looked back down at Norris, still unmoving. Clint averted his gaze. He hated to be rough on Peter, but they didn’t have a choice. He’d likely wind up dead if he stayed here while in shock, and getting him out of here would wake him up. Hawkeye motioned to Giordano. “Sorry, kid.”

Everything moved too fast for Peter to process. Mr.Barton moved out of his vision as Agent Giordano moved in, and the man’s hands covered Peter’s on Norris’s wound. A pair of arms wrapped around his torso. No! He couldn’t leave her. He promised to keep her safe! Peter’s feet scrambled for purchase as Clint hauled him towards the hall.

“Wait!” Peter protested, hands reaching out for Norris. A coughing fit slammed into him then, stripping him of the strength he needed to fight the tyrant pulling him into a new room. Spider-Man reflexively covered his masked mouth with his arm as the coughs raked his throat, putting out more than he could take in. He wheezed for air when it stopped, feeling his legs turn to jelly. Hawkeye put one hand under his armpit and one hand on his hip, steadying the boy against the wall. The poor teenager quivered, and Clint didn’t think the coughs were the only reason he couldn’t breathe.

“Peter, calm down. You can do this,” Hawkeye encouraged. Peter was obviously bordering on the edge of hysterics, and Clint knew he couldn’t prevent a breakdown- he could only try and stave it off long enough to get them out of the situation. A distraction was the best option, even if it seemed dangerous. “You need to shut it down. I know I’m asking a lot, but we can’t deal with this right now. It isn’t safe, okay?”

Peter didn’t respond. What was he supposed to say? He knew the was supposed to help. He had powers and was a part of the team; that came with responsibility. But every fiber of his being told him to stay. He made a promise.

“Peter,” Clint started firmly. “I can’t cover you all day. You need to make a decision. If you can’t handle this mission, then you need to get somewhere safe and hide.” Spider-Man shook his head. He just- Norris. He needed to protect her. She was the only one he seemed to be allowed to protect. He didn’t want to leave her, but in his disoriented state, Hawkeye’s logic seemed sensible enough.

“No… No, I can do this. I just… Mr.Stark said..,” Peter trailed off, thinking about how Iron Man stopped him earlier.

“Don’t worry about that. Just worry about what you can control. Okay?” Clint said. Peter leaned his head back against the wall, staring at the popcorn ceiling. This was the only way to help. He had to let go for now. He just didn’t want to believe it.

“Okay.”

“Are you coherent enough to fight? Yes or no. I need to hear you say it,” Hawkeye said. Spider-Man swallowed with difficulty.

“Yes,” He nodded. Hawkeye gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, moving away a bit. Peter took a deep breath. Okay. He could do this. He would go on three. He would move outside.

 

One…

 

Two…

 

Three.

 

Peter’s feet floated to the exit without him processing it. The convoy was a few hundred yards out, and communications never went down, so they’d come in guns blazing. Spider-Man ended up on the loading dock, pausing next to one of the other agents. Last chance. He could change his mind now or he was in it for the long run. He felt the man clap him on the back.

“C’mon, Spider-Man. We gotta move.” Peter took one last look at the compound, clenched his fists, and left as the first shots rang out.

* * *

Tony looked up from his tablet at the sound of stomping boots. Hawkeye stormed into the room, snarling. “You DUMBASS!”

“What?” Tony looked to the other agents for any kind of explanation, but everyone else inched their way out the door. So what if they’d only been at the Azanian UN Center for 10 minutes and hadn’t been debriefed? They weren’t getting caught up in this. Tony blinked. What did he do wrong?

“You selfish bastard!” Clint growled. Tony instinctively moved back as the man came closer. What the hell? He hadn’t seen Barton lose his shit before. Tony’s eyes widened as Clint’s fist grabbed the front of his shirt.

“I-”

“Don’t play dumb. You got people killed, Stark!” Barton hissed. Tony swallowed uncomfortably. He didn’t know how he was responsible for the losses, but knowing himself, he probably was.

“Did I miss something?”

“You caused everyone  _ else _ to miss something, Stark. Your little fight with Parker got people killed,” The veins on his arm popped with how tightly his fist clenched the fabric. “We couldn’t fucking hear each other, so we couldn’t locate the squad in time to save them.

Tony felt pain stirring in his chest as the words sunk in, and he shrunk back in Clint’s grip. It was his fault, wasn’t it. He felt the disappointment in Clint’s eyes as he glared at him, and Stark subconsciously attempted to escape it.

“I was just trying to protect him,” Tony excused meekly. Clint scoffed, letting go of his shirt. Tony rubbed his neck as he moved closer to the table, proceeding to put both hands on the cold metal to support himself.

“It’s not about him, Stark. You’ve been on hundreds of missions. You know better than to get distracted,” Hawkeye censured. “When you get distracted, people die. I thought you learned that last time.”

“That was different,” Tony protested, a buzzing starting in his fingertips as the anxiety hit. The memory of that catastrophic mission still made him sick.

“How the hell was it different, Stark? Every time I  _ think _ you’ve matured, you just return to the same selfish narcissist.” The words stung as they left his mouth, and Iron Man felt like someone flicked a switch, turning his anxiety off and his anger on. He clenched his jaw defensively.

“You wouldn’t even be here if not for me. You  _ only _ care about the mission, Barton. I’m trying to keep Peter  _ alive _ ,” He swung round from the table to meet Hawkeye dead on, but the archer seemed unfazed.

“In the process, you killed four of our teammates. I get it. You’ve got a kid. So do I, Stark. You think I don’t think about them? I do. But I  _ also _ think about the fact that we’ve got a group of organized terrorists murdering tons of civilians, including kids, and we’ve also got a team full of people with their own lives and families. It’s not just about you. You can’t fucking sabotage a mission to  _ argue _ with a combatant who might not live anyway!”

“Don’t say that,” Tony snapped.

“What? That he might not live? I said it. The mission didn’t go as planned. We weren’t supposed to lose people, and because we did, we had to use more lethal force on terrorists who might’ve had valuable information- including information on the toxic killing Peter. That’s on  _ you _ ,” Clint growled. Tony lunged, throwing a fist at his face, but the archer easily deflected it. The billionaire was emotional, and sloppy as a result. He stepped out of range, and Stark knew he wouldn’t ever land a hit.

“Fuck you!” Tony yelled. Hawkeye crossed his arms.

“Come talk to me when you’ve learned not to be so stupidly selfish,” Clint turned on his heel and left the room. Tony stood for a moment after the door closed, fists clenched so tightly that it hurt. Then, he collapsed into a chair, burying his head in his hands. Why couldn’t he do anything right?

* * *

Clint barely made it to the end of the hallway before he heard the choked sob, followed promptly by a series of coughs and a wheeze. Parental instincts kicked in with full force. God damn it. He looked up and easily located the red ball curled up on the highest possible rafter. Clint climbed the access ladder and carefully scaled his way up to the kid. Peter’s shoulders trembled with sobs as Clint settled next to him, but as soon as Peter realized someone was there, he did his best to stifle it.

“Hey Peter,” Clint set a gentle hand on his back, rubbing it in small circles. Peter slowly lifted his head from between his knees to check who it was. Upon recognizing Clint, he turned his head away, trying- and failing- to steady his breathing.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” Peter gasped. He’d been fine. He’d been doing okay throughout the rest of the mission (not that he remembered it clearly). In all the chaos, he never had a chance to really process what happened, but the instant he stopped moving, everything caught up to him. Peter dissolved into a guilty, quivering mess. He couldn't stop shaking. How could he go out there and fight? How could he leave her alone? He  _ promised _ . He raised an arm to hack into it, and Clint patiently waited until the fit passed before speaking again.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Clint said. He felt terrible for pulling Spider-Man out of the room and making him fight- it had to be done, but bottling up emotions never ended well. Peter really remember much after he found Norris, so he wasn’t quite sure what Clint spoke of. He assumed that the man was ‘sorry for his loss.’

“S’okay,” Peter mumbled, rubbing his eyes against his forearm.

“I remember the first time I lost a teammate on a mission- my partner. I blamed myself, but-”

“This isn’t the first time,” Peter whimpered. Clint raised an eyebrow, waiting to see if more would come. The teenager seemed to lean back into Clint’s hand, so the father of three resumed rubbing his back. “My-my uncle. He di- y’know- because of me.”

“I could’ve stopped the guy- I could’ve! It wouldn’t have been a problem. But I had just gotten my powers and I- I wasn’t sure what to do. I just didn’t- didn’t think about it. And then he killed Ben, and it was… it was my fault,” Peter stammered. Clint took a moment to piece the story together before resuming.

“You can’t torture yourself with the what-ifs, Peter. You’ll never move past if you don’t,” Clint said. Peter took a shaky breath, turning to look at him, and the despondent look in his eyes reminded Clint too much of the turmoil he’d once seen in Wanda’s. On a whim, he moved the hand on Peter’s back to his shoulder, inviting the kid into a hug. Peter burrowed into his side, knees shifting to curl up against the steady figure. After making sure they wouldn’t slip off the metal beam supporting them, Clint brought his other arm around, wrapping the teenager in warmth.

 “It’s my fault she’s dead,” Peter mumbled into his chest. Clint didn’t have a free hand, so he settled for nuzzling his chin into the curly hair. He’d comforted his own kids enough times to be a pro.

 “You don’t know that.”

 “I do.”

 “You can’t know for sure, Peter. She might’ve gotten hurt anyway,” Clint reasoned.

 “But I- I left her. If I had gotten her out…”

 “She was already too far gone, Pete. There’s nothing you could have done to stop it. I’m sorry,” Clint’s voice was steady, and the vibrations of his voice started to calm Peter down, but his mind struggled to let go. She trusted him. Norris trusted him, and he let her die. She had a life and wanted kids, and he took that away. What’s the point of being Spider-Man if he can’t protect one person? Maybe he wasn’t worthy of it. Even as he thought it, he knew that wasn’t true. He just wished it were. Then maybe he would be absolved of the weight crushing his shoulders. A shiver ran through him, and Peter pressed even harder into Clint.

 “It hurts,” Peter whimpered, and Clint knew he wasn’t talking about a physical injury.

 “I know, kiddo. It’ll get better, I promise,” Clint daringly removed an arm from the hug, and Peter didn’t protest, so he replaced his chin with a hand as he stroked the teenager’s hair. Peter nuzzled his nose into his chest, and eventually, the trembling began to slow. Clint looked down at the sniffling hero in his arms and felt a warmth spread through his chest. Suddenly, it didn’t seem as surprising that Stark was so whipped for this kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint's just doing his best, guys. Sorry this took so long to get out. School is busy kicking my ass, so I'm going to switch my writing goals for this to bi-weekly. However, there may be other chapters in between, and I'm going to take a shot at a writing challenge called Whumptober next month.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, solving one problem doesn't solve everything, and the team must come to grips with that.

Tony’s legged bounced as he watched the interrogations go on. He’d wanted to help at first, anxious to get a grab at the terrorists who hurt his kid, but the professionals promptly objected. They told him they had a very specific, methodical strategy for the interrogations, so Tony would only hurt things by getting involved. The man begrudging compromised on being allowed to watch through the one-way mirror.

However, his patience was wearing thin. They’d made progress, for sure, but it wasn’t the progress Tony wanted. Most of what came out pertained to the motives and operation of the group, rather than information about the poisonous gas itself. As the current terrorist launched into another speech about how the UN stood by while their country suffered, Tony tuned out. Not that he didn’t believe the man- the UN was often called biased- but his thoughts just drifted to Peter.

He’d barely seen the kid since the compound. They passed each other once during the cleanup, but Spider-Man swung wide, avoiding any form of contact. Then, Clint berated him, and Tony started to understand why the kid hadn’t sought him out to reconcile yet. Usually they would have by now. He wanted to talk to Peter, but he didn’t know what to stay. He settled on waiting for some good news from the terrorists on the toxin, because Tony knew that would cheer the kid up, but no news of that seemed to be coming. In fact, the interrogators barely even asked about the chemical makeup of the toxin.

“Uh… it’s not really a priority,” said one of the agents when Tony asked. “It kills people instantly, so even if we had an antidote, we would never get to people fast enough to administer it.”

“I need to know,” Tony insisted. The woman rubbed the back of her neck.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could help, but we have strict orders,” She avoided his gaze, choosing instead to look through the mirror. Tony grit his teeth. He needed to get them to ask. He knew they wouldn’t let him go in personally, and the Avengers were trying to keep Peter’s condition quiet.

“Where else are attacks planned?” The interrogator demanded. His hands were splayed on the table where the current subject was cuffed, leaning in close. The terrorist looked up from his hands, a malicious grin growing onto his face.

“That’s for you to find out,” His accent was thick and dripping with venom. The interrogator sighed and looked back at the other detective in the room, who crossed his arms. The interrogator sniffed.

“Look, this can get real ugly if you don’t give us what we need,” He insisted. The terrorist chuckled.

“I know international law. You cannot hurt me,” He sneered. He leant back in the seat, as casually as if he were watching television.

“We found materials for another bomb. Where did it go?”

“You won’t stop them. They’ve already left for their mission, and when they’re done, the world will remember our names,” He smirked. The interrogator slammed the table with his hand.

“What the fuck are you planning?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“They’re going in circles with this guy,” Tony criticized. The woman put up a hand to silence him.

“Let them work.” Tony exhaled slowly and watched the banter continue. At another prompting, the terrorist gave an ultimatum.

“Alright. I’ll give you a choice. I can tell you where the target is, or, I can tell you how the bomb works.” Tony’s heart skipped a beat. How the bomb worked would include the toxin. The interrogator was silent for a moment, thinking, and Tony held his breath.

“Where’s the strike going to be?” He asked. No. Wrong question. Tony’s feet were moving forward before he even processed what happened. He was doing what he had to. For Peter. He barged into the interrogation room before anyone could stop him, and flickers of confusion flashed on the detectives’ faces before they hid them under years of training.

“Ah, Mr.Stark. How nice of-” A loud bang resonated in the room as Tony slammed the terrorist’s head into the metal table. The lead interrogator’s eyes widened, and he surged forward, grabbing Tony’s arm.

“Mr.Stark, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” He said firmly, guiding the billionaire back towards the door that the other detective held open.

“You need to ask about an antidote,” Tony hissed in a hushed whisper. The man held out his other hand to calm him.

“Mr.Stark, I’m sorry. That’s not a priority. We have very specific procedures focused on protecting the masses. You could jeopardize this entire operation,” He explained quietly. Tony tilted his chin up as they got closer to the door.

“Alright. Alright, I’m sorry,” He held his hands up in surrender, and the interrogator let go of him. But as Tony passed through the door, he suddenly grabbed the interrogator and threw him into the detective holding it open. Both men toppled into the hallway, and as other agents rushed down the hall to help, Tony slammed the door shut and locked it. He activated his wrist gauntlet and welded the metal near the handle to the doorframe with the repulsor. The terrorist gaped at him as he stormed back over.

“Listen up,” Tony growled, threading his fingers in the man’s hair and gripping tightly. “You’re gonna tell me whatever I need to know, or I  _ will _ burn your face off.” The sneer, cocky persona of the terrorist had vanished, only to be replaced by fear.

“You- you can’t!” He stammered. Tony pulled his head back and leaned closer.

“You think I care about international law?” He whispered. “I don’t.” The terrorist clenched his eyes shut, and tried to shift away, but the metal hand gripping his head was too tight.

“What do you want to know?”

“I need an antidote,” Tony snarled. “How did you make it?”

“The poison? It’s complicated…”

“Try me,” Tony heard banging at the door, but he didn’t do anything about it. He didn’t have much time.

“I-I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what?!” His other hand came up, gripping the man’s neck threateningly. “How do I cure it?!”

“You can’t!” He cried. Tony felt his heart stop. There had to be a way.

“Bullshit!” He released the man, and his repulsor lit up. The man flinched, trying to backpedal, but he was well-restrained to the table drilled into the floor. “Stop lying!”

“I’m not! You cannot fix it! We never had an antidote. Why would we?!”

“How could you not?”

“Our goal was to spread a message. Our boss didn’t care about killing people in testing. We designed it for maximum lethal force, not scientific consistency.” The man stammered. Tony’s heart caught in his throat, and it quickly turned to anger. He snapped. These men were killing his kid. The repulsor began to charge up. The door burst open.

“Tony!” Rhodes yelled, running in. He grabbed Tony from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. “What are you doing?!”

As other people poured in to separate them, Rhodes dragged Tony backwards, getting him into the hallway. Tony came back to his senses, realizing what Rhodes just stopped him from doing. The wrist gauntlet retracted back into its casing, and the man slid down the wall. Rhodes quickly grabbed him, helping him down slowly.

“What the hell happened?” Rhodes asked, kneeling in front of him. Tony ran his hands down his face.

“There’s no antidote,” Tony whispered, and Rhodes wasn’t sure he’d ever heard his voice so broken.

“There’s no… antidote?” Rhodes repeated. “My god…”

“He’s gonna die,” Tony whimpered. “He’s gonna die, and it’s all my fault. I just- I just wanted to protect him.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Rhodes said quickly, trying to keep Tony out of a panic attack. “He’s not gonna die. We’ll figure it out, I promise. We can come up with something.”

“What?”

“We can make a cure for him,” Rhodey continued when Tony didn’t respond. “You have the resources, Tones. There’s you, Stephen, Bruce, Helen… We can figure it out. We’ll save him, okay? Just don’t freak out.”

Tony shook his head, leaning forward and burying it against Rhodey’s chest. The long-time friend hugged him, rubbing his back soothingly. “We got this.”

* * *

Peter rubbed his hair with his towel before dropping it down to dry his face. Peter looked in the mirror, and he registered that he looked like crap, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t slept since the mission last night. He just… couldn’t. Since the conversation with Clint, he’d tried to keep his grief lowkey, crying in the shower so the running water would hide it. He’d learned that trick after Ben died, and needless to say, that was the fifth shower he’d taken today.

He needed some air. Peter walked out to the porch of their hotel, pulling a sweatshirt on as he walked. However, when the fabric slipped into place, Peter hissed. He rolled up his sleeve to look at the bruise turning blue and purple around his wrist. It was from the fight at the compound earlier, when Tony had grabbed his wrist and wouldn’t let go. He knew Mr.Stark didn’t mean it- he wouldn’t ever injure him willingly, but it still hurt.

On cue, the door to the suite started to open, and Peter quickly pulled his sleeve back down, focusing his gaze on his view of the country. Tony and Rhodey walked in, and their conversation ceased when Tony saw Peter standing outside.

“I’ll be in my room,” Rhodes mumbled. He patted Tony’s shoulder before slipping away to give the pair some space. Tony tentatively approached, knowing that Peter would be able to sense him.

“Hey kid,” His voice was soft and gentle, the opposite of how it had been that night. Peter turned his head away, staring intently at the railing.

“Hey,” Peter tensed as Tony came closer. He didn’t want to talk right now. Peter was still processing everything that happened, and he didn’t know who or what to blame. However, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he and Tony had something to do with it. An awkward silence settled between them.

“We’re going home tonight,” Tony said quietly, hoping to start some semblance of a normal conversation. “You can sleep on the plane and start catching up on schoolwork tomorrow. I know that’s important to you.”

Peter shrugged. “Okay.” Tony shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘Okay’? What did that mean?

“Are you uh… doing okay, Pete?”

“No.”

“Oh.” What a dumb question, Tony thought to himself. Of course the kid wasn’t doing okay. Someone close to him just  _ died _ , and the kid himself was in the process of following suit. Peter liked hugs. Maybe a comforting touch would help smooth things over. He took another step towards his kid.

“Listen. Pete, I’m… I don’t really know how to start this, but I want to say, I’m really-” The instant Tony’s hand touched his shoulder, Peter flinched, and Tony stopped short. The man’s hand recoiled, as if burned. Another silence fell between them, but this time, it was more painful. Peter kept his head down, trying to hide the burning in his eyes.

“I’m really… uh… tired. I’m gonna take a nap. See you in a bit, bud.” His speech accelerated as he went on, and Tony quickly retreated into his own room. Peter sighed and trudged back inside. He flopped onto the bed, but it irritated his throat, and he coughed for a minute. Groaning, Peter reached for his side table and downed an entire bottle of water before curling up into a ball. He hugged a pillow to his chest and pulled out his phone. He really needed a distraction right now, and what better than some mopey music and angsty memes?

* * *

“Hey, Peter,” Rhodes sent a small smile as he sat across from the teenager on the plane. Peter took one of his headphones out.

“Oh. Hey,” He forced a small in return, and then just waited for Rhodes to say something else. The colonel looked him over, noting how small he looked in his comfy sweatshirt and sweatpants. Peter was sitting sideways in his chair, legs swung over one armrest while he leaned against the other.

“I just wanted to check on you,” Rhodey explained. Peter nodded, and he kept going. “I’m sorry about what happened with the antidote.”

“Wait… What happened?” Peter furrowed his eyebrows and shifted back to an upright position. Behind him, Rhodes saw Tony’s eyes widen, and the billionaire quickly made a motion with his hand to stop talking. Oh crap. He thought Tony told him already. Peter followed Rhodey’s line of sight and twisted in his seat to see Tony standing near the door. “Tony?”

“Um,” Tony bit his lip.

“What is it?” Peter felt his anxiety rising. He remembered someone saying something about interrogations going on today, but he never asked how it went.

“Peter,” Tony reached for his shoulder briefly, but let his hand fall, remembering how that went over earlier. “They never developed an antidote.”

“Oh,” Peter said, taking a minute to register it. “ _ Oh _ .” The implication hit him in the face, and he stood up abruptly.

“Pete-”

“Oh god. No..,” Peter paced around the plane, running his hands through his hair. He couldn’t breathe. Tony heard the first heave and moved to comfort him, but remember not to.

“Peter, you’ll be okay,” Rhodes promised quickly. The kid continued to pace.

“H-how? I thought this was supposed to fix it!” Peter’s voice cracked.

“It might have been naive to assume they would have an antidote,” Rhodes admitted. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t make one. We’ll figure it out.” Peter shook his head, and tears welled up in his eyes. He slumped to the ground, leaning against a chair. Tony’s limbs itched with the urge to go to his kid, and to his relief, Clint chose that moment to board the plane, and he quickly put the situation together.

“Hey,” Clint knelt down in front of Peter and gently pulled his hands away from his face. Peter’s cheeks were already streaked with tears, and he was shaking. Peter wanted Norris, but she wasn’t here, and that just made him cry harder.

“Shh,” Clint hushed, sitting down next to him and pulling him close. The kid leaned into him hard, and although it pained Tony to see Peter trust someone else after flinching away from him earlier, he said nothing.

“We told him,” Rhodes explained quietly. Clint nodded, letting his fatherly instincts take over to comfort the kid. He rubbed Peter’s back, and the teenager started hacking violently into his arm. They waited in silence until the coughing fit subsided, and Peter buried his head into his knees.

“I’m gonna die,” He whispered hoarsely.

“You’re not going to die,” Tony snapped. Rhodes sent him a warning look at the tone of voice used, but Peter didn’t seem to notice. He just shook his head and whimpered. How was he going to tell May? A shudder ran through his body. She’d be so upset with him. Someone passed Clint a water bottle, and he unscrewed it.

“Try to drink some water,” Clint gently pressed the bottle into Peter’s hand, but it shook, so he kept his fingers firmly over Peter’s. “It’ll help.”

Peter nodded, and Clint helped him bring it to his lips. Peter clenched his eyes shut as the cool substance soothed his throat. It did help a bit, but he still felt sick. He sniffled, and Clint took the bottle away. Anybody who looked at the teenager could tell he was wrecked. His skin was pale, he wheezed for air every few breaths, and his eyes carried circles so dark they could’ve been bruises.

“Listen, we have some of the smartest people in the world here. We’re gonna help you, Peter. You’ll live,” Clint assured. Peter nodded and let Clint help him back into a chair. He arranged the kid to lay across two seats and sat across from him. Tony passed them a blanket kept in the overhead bins, and Clint spread it over him. Peter distantly thought about how dumb he must look, getting tucked in like a five-year-old, but he was too much of a mess to care, and he couldn’t bring himself to reject the comforting hand stroking his side.

“Get some rest and we’ll talk when we get back to New York, okay?” Clint murmured. He brushed some sweaty curls out of the boy’s face before rubbing his shoulder. Peter leaned into the touch, and Clint stayed there until he passed out. After the plane was in the air, he slowly got up to sit with the other Avengers. Rhodes had been watching Clint and Peter while Tony stared out the window.

“What are we going to do?” Clint asked quietly. Tony took a deep breath and grabbed his tablet from his bag. His jaw set in determination.

“We’re going to fight this with everything we’ve got,” Tony vowed. He didn’t care if he went broke. Tony would hire every scientist in the world if that was what it took, but there was no way in hell Peter was going to die. Not on his watch.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter returns home and remembers that his family and friends are always there to lean on. Maybe a night out is what he needs right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I know things have been depressing lately, so ima give you guys a lil’ fluff. Not saying it’ll last, but there is some towards the end of the chapter. Also, sorry for the long break in updating. Whumptober kicked my ass, but there's plenty of good Peter whump if you jump over to that story on my account.

**48 Days Remaining**

Peter pushed the door to his apartment open and let out a sigh of relief. Finally, he was home. It had been a long flight, and then he had to have a small argument with Tony because he wanted to take an Uber. Peter just didn’t want to deal with anyone right now, but Tony insisted that Happy take him home, and Peter eventually caved. May was at work, so he had some time to himself, though he did plan to pop by school later to pick up his work.

Peter took a long shower, letting everything from the past few days wash off of him. He knew it wouldn’t ever be fully gone, not really, but he scrubbed himself enough times that he felt a  _ little _ better. When Peter grabbed at the knob to make the water hotter, he realized it was already at the maximum temperature, and that his fingers were all pruney. Maybe he needed to get out.

Peter shivers as he goes back to his room in his towel and sees the thermostat. It’s 74 degrees in the apartment. Weird. Peter got dressed in jeans, a punny t-shirt (bearing a cute lightbulb and text that says “Turn down for Watt”, and a soft sweatshirt before heading out to pick up his make-up work.

* * *

 

“Mr.Parker? I’m ready for you now,” Principal Morita poked his head out of his office and waved at the teenager. Peter rose to his feet and trudged through the open door. He swung his backpack off his shoulder and plopped down into one of the chairs in front of Principal Morita’s desk. The man smoothed his suit as he sat down in his own chair, giving the student a once-over. With Parker’s previous history of skipping, he’d planned on asking for a doctor’s note of some sort, but upon seeing the kid, he really didn’t think it was necessary anymore.

“You feeling a bit better?” Morita asked. Peter nodded, but it lacked his usual energy. Morita noted the bags under his eyes, flushed cheeks, and tousled hair. The teenager’s impeccable posture also seemed to be gone, and his hands were shoved deep into his hoodie pocket, as if he were trying to keep them warm. Morita grabbed a manila folder from his filing cabinet and slid it across the desk.

“I spoke to your aunt and had your teachers compile all the work you missed. Mr.Cobbwell requested that you come by for him to explain a project, but don’t force it if you aren’t feeling up to it,” Principal Morita explained. Peter drew a hand from his sweatshirt, bringing a sweater paw with it, and he clutched the folder. He was lucky his sleeve hid the yellowing bruise from an already suspicious principal.

“Thanks. I’ll pop by. It’s his planning period, right?” Peter asked quietly, to which Morita nodded.

“You sure you’re well enough to return to school?” Morita asked tentatively. Peter nodded, reaching for his backpack. He didn’t want to answer more questions. He stood up.

“Yeah. It’ll clear up,” Peter lied. “I’m going to talk to Mr.Cobbwell before his next class starts. Bye.” A couple minutes later, Mr.Cobbwell looks up at the gentle knock on his doorframe.

“Oh. Peter,” Mr.Cobbwell recognized the student as he came in. “I didn’t expect to see you until next week since you didn’t come to class today.”

“I’m just picking up makeup work today,” Peter explained.

“Good plan. No offense, but you look like crap,” Mr.Cobbwell gives a sympathetic smile. Peter laughs a little.

“Offense taken. Now what’s this project? Peter changed the subject and listened diligently as Mr.Cobbwell explained the chemistry project. It seemed easy enough. Although, to be honest, chemistry was always easy for him. Peter stuffed the folder from Morita and the project sheet into his backpack and thanked Mr.Cobbwell before swinging his bag back on.

“Do you need anything, Peter?” Mr.Cobbwell asked, staring at him in concern. Peter shook his head. “Okay… well… get some rest and feel free to email me if you need anything. And I really mean anything, Peter. Even if you just need to get some stuff off your chest. You seem a little uptight.” Peter mumbled a thank you and left to go back home.

* * *

 

“Peter?” May called when she heard the door open. She rounded the corner and hugged him tightly. Peter buried his head into her shoulder, relishing the warmth and comfort that emanated from her presence.

“Hey May,” He mumbled. She held him there for a moment before loosening her grip, but Peter didn’t loosen his. He just kept hugging her, so she ran her fingers through his hair soothingly.

“How was your trip? I saw the press conference this afternoon. Are you okay?”

“‘M okay,” Peter sighed. He finally pulled away and let May look him over.

“You look exhausted. Did you get hurt?” May asked worriedly. Peter felt a lump in his throat, and he wasn’t sure if it was a sob or a cough trying to make its way out, but he suppressed it anyway.

“No,” His voice cracked, and he blushed. He needed to tell May. He knew he did- he just didn’t know how to do it. “I’m hungry. Do you want to go to your favorite Thai place tonight?” Peter suggested. Anything to soften the blow.

“Sure,” May agreed, though she looked a little taken off guard. It was a bit too early for dinner, so Peter laid on the couch under a thick blanket and started googling on his computer. He was trying to find suggestions on how to break the news, but nothing really helpful came up. It just made him stressed, especially with May looking over at him whenever he coughed. He grabbed his bag and tried to focus on homework, but he barely made any progress, and he almost cheered in relief when May suggested they get going.

* * *

45 minutes later, a silence fell between the pair at dinner, and May could feel the nervous tapping of Peter’s leg under the table. He’d been on the jittery side this entire meal, and he wasn’t talking as much as he normally did.

“Are you still sick? I thought Bruce said you should get better soon,” May commented. She didn’t miss the way that Peter suddenly averted his eyes. May reached across the table to feel his forehead, and although Peter quickly brushed her hand away, blushing and claiming that she would embarrass him, May could feel how hot he was.

“The trip made it worse,” Peter admitted. It wasn’t a full reveal, but it did bring him some relief. May watched him play with his food and got the waiter’s attention. Peter stared down at his plate nervously while she requested a check and a box. She needed to get her kid home.

Peter clutched her hand on the walk back to the apartment, something he didn’t do as often anymore, but his palms were a little sweaty and he periodically took his hand away to wipe it on his pants. Peter frowned as they got closer to the apartment. He didn’t think he could do this. As soon as they walked in, he put his leftovers in the fridge, but May subtly blocked him from leaving the kitchen.

“Pete, what is up with you? You’re being quiet, you barely touched your food, you’re obviously anxious. I don’t understand,” May said. She closed the distance between them and put her hand on Peter’s forehead again, feeling the hot fever. This time, the teenager didn’t pull away, but rather leaned into it, closing his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbled. May narrowed her eyes.

“About what? I don’t understand. You’ve already been sick for three weeks. Shouldn’t you be getting better?” May asked. Peter felt his breath hitch in his throat, and he took May’s hand on his forehead into his.

“I’m not… I’m not going to get better, May,” He whispered. She stared at him.

“WHAT?!” Peter flinched at the worried outcry, and he pulled her over to the couch. He always saw people in television shows tell others to sit down.

“That- that terrorist attack earlier this month. I breathed in some of the poison, and it’s-it’s killing me,” Peter felt a lump at his throat when he saw the pain in May’s eyes. He didn’t mean to say it that bluntly, but he just didn’t know what else to say.

“We thought the terrorists would have an antidote, but they- they didn’t. And now… now I don’t know if we’re goingtofindacure,” Peter started off with stammers and accelerated in a slur at the end. May was crying, and she still hadn’t said anything. The silence confused Peter, and he didn’t know what to say. So he just started talking. Just pouring out his whole stream of consciousness, telling her everything that happened. He talked about the little boy he saved, about discovering the condition, about getting clearance, about fighting the terrorists, about fighting with Tony, about Norris. By the time he finished, he was crying too, and May had pulled him into a hug.

“I’m so, so sorry, May. I didn’t want to do this to you, and I- I’m so sorry that this happened,” Peter gasps. First Ben and now him. It wasn’t fair to her.

“May,” He jostled her slightly. “Please say something.  _ Anything _ . I’m scared.  _ Terrified. _ ”

“I..,” She trailed off, and Peter needed his superhearing to understand her. “It’s not your fault, Pete. I’m here for you.” Peter felt like someone lifted a weight off of his shoulders, and he sagged against her. With everything that had happened, it was such a relief just to have a hug and a warm touch and someone to talk to. He no longer felt like he had to walk around on eggshells.

“I just wanted to help people,” Peter croaked. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t want to leave you.”

“This happened because you saved someone, Peter. Many people, in fact. No matter what happens, I can never be mad at you. I’m always going to be proud of you.”

* * *

**47 Days Remaining**

Saturday morning, May made a big breakfast, saying something about how Peter needs to eat healthy to keep his strength up. Peter didn’t fight it. He was honestly just so relieved that May knew about all of this now. May seemed unsure of what to say or do, so she just refrained from bringing the illness up too much while she processed it. However, when she walked past the couch in the afternoon to find Peter in the same position buried under a mountain of blankets she frowned. He needed to get out of the house, and May pulled out her phone to text Ned.

So yes, it was  _ definitely _ a coincidence when Peter got a text an hour later with Ned inviting him to go out with him and MJ that night. Peter resisted at first, citing a load of makeup work, but he knew damn well he wasn’t getting any homework done, and Ned complained that he hadn’t seen Peter in over a week. After another half hour of texting, Peter relented.

He dragged himself off the couch, took another shower, and got dressed. He brushed his hair into place in the mirror and took a deep breath. Maybe this would be good for him. Maybe he just needed to get out and get his mind off of things. When he mentioned going out to May, she enthusiastically agreed, and she struggled not to ruffle his hair proudly. It was 70 degrees out, but he grabbed a thick sweatshirt anyway. He was always cold, and he figured it must be his condition.

When he walked into the arcade, Ned’s mouth grew into a giant grin, and he hustled over. Peter’s hands moved automatically from years of practice as they went through their handshake, and Ned pulled him in for a bro hug afterwards. MJ stood beside them, and she tilted her chin up.

“Sup?” She asked. Peter shrugged and held out his arms for a hug. It was a bit rarer for them to hug, but MJ didn’t seem to mind as he wrapped his arms around her. Ned held up a cup of coins.

“Ready to lose in air hockey?” He taunted. Peter laughed.

“I’m ready to watch  _ you _ lose,” Peter scoffed.

“You guys are such dorks,” MJ commented, but she followed them over to the table anyway. The score was 5-4 with Peter in the lead. The two best friends were getting real into it, playfully ragging on each other as the puck whipped back and forth. Peter stopped thinking about suppressing his strength, and Ned had to dodge the puck when it went flying off the table. It struck the table guards and flew past Ned, lodging itself firmly in the wall. Peter’s eyes widened.

“Uh, maybe we should move somewhere else,” Ned said, and the teenagers speed-walked to the other end of the arcade. There, Peter grinned once again when he saw the racing games.

“MJ, betcha can’t beat me in that,” Peter pointed to the motorcycle games, and MJ smirked.

“You’re so on,” She mounted one of the motorcycles, and Peter and Ned hopped on two of the other ones. Some poor soul got on the 4th one, and the race began. To say it was close would be an understatement. For some of them, at least. Peter and MJ passed the lead back and forth, and MJ cried out in protest when Peter reached over and grabbed the brake lever on her bike. On the other hand, Ned crashed multiple times, and the random person who joined in just hung out with the main pack of AIs in the game, not able to get close enough to MJ and Peter’s motorcycles. Towards the end of the race, Peter glanced over at MJ, and he saw that she was diligently focused on the race. He twisted his handle back subtly, and she passed him right at the line.

“HA!” MJ yelled, pumping her fist. “I got you!”

“You sure did,” Peter gave a fake pout. Ned swung off his fake motorcycle and walked between them.

“What next?” The teenagers spent the next hour playing various arcade games, with varying degrees of success. The highlight of the night was when Peter got to a ridiculously high level on Galaga. He bit his lip in concentration as he shot all the alien spaceships, barely even noticing when MJ used his shoulder as an armrest while she looked on. The low moment of the night was when MJ tried one of those hammer strength things and barely got to the fourth light out of ten. She seemed a little annoyed, but then Ned took his turn. The guy in the chair rubbed his hands together and stretched his arms. He dramatically went to the hammer, sending a playful wink to MJ. He only made it to level two, and both Peter and MJ burst into hysterics.

“It’s not that funny!” Ned protested, face turning redder than usual. “Why don’t you go then, Peter?”

“No. I’ll probably break it,” Peter chuckled, and neither of his friends fought him on it. After the puck incident, he probably would. When they ran out of coins, they ended up at a Waffle House, digging into chocolate chip waffles like there was no tomorrow. Peter suddenly had a thought, and he frowned.

“What’s up?” Ned asked when he noticed. Peter snapped out of his daze.

“Oh. I just missed this.” And he would miss it.

“But you were only gone for a week and a half,” Michelle pointed out, narrowing his eyes.

“I know,” Peter waved her off. “It just felt like forever.” He felt a few chills go through his body at the thought that soon, it might actually be forever, and he chewed the inside of his cheek.

“Would you like any dessert?” The waitress interrupted, and Peter forced a grin to his face.

“You guys want pie?” Peter asked his friends. Ned nodded.

“I always want pie,” MJ reminded, grabbing her fork pointedly.

“Three slices then,” Peter told the waitress. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re so polite,” The waitress complimented, giving him a warm smile. Peter noticed that their pie slices were a little bigger than usual when they came back, and he said thank you again.

“It’s only 9 o’clock,” Ned pointed out, waving his phone around. “You guys want to do a movie night?”

“I’m down,” Michelle agreed. “Peter?”

“Always,” Peter felt a warmth spread through his chest. A nice, calming feeling he hadn’t had much as of late. He downed the rest of his water and set it down on the table. “Let’s go.”


	15. Back to Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Tony both feel like they're walking on eggshells, but unfortunately, time isn't on their side. They can't just wait it out. Tony urges Peter to come back to him as he sets up a research team for finding a cure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, it is I... returning from the dead to bring you another chapter. There's some good news and bad news. The good news is that I'll be able to write more consistently for a while. The bad news is that there was such a large gap in posts. The in-between news is well... in-between. Earlier in the semester, one of the obstacles preventing me from writing was a nasty, persistent case of pneumonia, which is good because now I understand better how Peter will feel as his condition progresses, but bad because.. y'know... pneumonia... not being able to write as much... I'm pretty sure the universe was simultaneously giving me karma and further resources for writing this story. But hey, I'm here now. I'll hopefully get back to bi-weekly with this, and I hope to have a one-shot and another chapter of Lab Rats up by the end of this week.

**46 Days Remaining**

Ned and MJ went home around 11, but they agreed to come back the next morning for a study day. Normally, Peter felt overwhelmed by his heightened senses, but today, he really didn’t mind. After everything he’d been through, being home with his family just seemed so… peaceful.

He could hear the calm breathing of Ned, Michelle, and May as they all sat in his living room. All three teenagers started off doing homework, and Ned and MJ finished theirs first since they didn’t have anything to make up, but they didn’t pressure Peter to stop doing his and entertain them. They knew turning on the tv or music would get distracting, so they just did their own thing. Ned scrolled through his phone, and Michelle worked on her sketchbook.

Whenever Peter needed a break from homework, he didn’t even need to get up. He just laid there and shut his eyes to take in his surroundings. As he laid against the armrest of the soft, cushy couch, he could feel the cool leather through his clothes, and the fuzzy blanket on top of him tickled his collarbone when he breathed. He heard the occasional push of air through a nose when Ned found a meme to laugh at, and the constant dip in the couch where Ned sat near Peter’s feet grounded him. To his left, he felt MJ’s hair tickling his forearm. She was sitting on the floor, but leaned against the couch, around Peter’s torso, and the consistent scratching of her pencil became a soothing white noise. The last bit of sensory input came from May. He could smell her usual vanilla perfume and hear the soft clacks on her keyboard as she typed.

His phone buzzed, and he stretched his arm towards the coffee table. It was a little too far, so Michelle passed it to him, not looking up from her drawing. Peter acknowledged all of the notifications, but he stopped when he saw the most recent one. It was from Tony. He shifted his thumb to open it, but then he thought about the whole trip.

“Here,” He handed his phone back to MJ, who put it back on the table.

“Who was it?”

“One of those automatic notifications,” He shrugs. He chews at the end of his pencil for a moment, but he pushes Mr.Stark out of his mind. He’s got calculus to do.

* * *

**45 Days Remaining**

Peter sighs and rolls over in bed. There’s a wetness on his pillow, probably from his eyes. He rubs at them, and he reaches for his phone, instinctively. When his fingers curl around the device, he stops. He usually calls Tony when he has nightmares, but he just… he doesn’t want to talk to him right now. He needs some time. Peter grabs a sweatshirt from his desk, and he burrows under his covers, clutching the sweatshirt under his arms like a stuffed animal.

It’s a relatively short while before Tony texts Peter again, and it catches him off guard. He’s just gotten to his third class of the day when his phone buzzes, and he misses what Ned is saying as he checks his phone.

“-right?”

“Huh? Oh… right,” Peter responds automatically, staring at the notification. Ned glances at it too, and both are silent for a moment, unmoving.

“Are you going to answer that?” Ned asks quietly. Peter shakes his head and quickly puts his phone in his backpack so he can’t go back on his decision. The ache of his wrist when he pulls it out of his bag confirms the decision anyway. He knows it wasn’t intentional, and Tony probably didn’t even realize he was doing it, but… still. He needs some more time to process everything. His wrist isn’t the only thing Tony hurt.

“Something happen between you two?” Ned asks suspiciously. Peter hadn’t mentioned Tony all weekend, and he’d consistently refused Ned and Michelle’s requests to tell them what went down while he was gone. Peter lets out a cough so he doesn’t have to answer. He shakes his head.

“No… no, we’re fine,” He lies. He’s beyond grateful when Mr.Westworth starts class, giving him an escape from this conversation.

* * *

Tony stares at his cell phone for a solid 10 minutes after he texts Peter, waiting. He knows the school schedule, and he knows how often Peter checks his phone. There’s no way the kid didn’t see it. He runs his hands through his hair, and he finds himself spinning a pen on the table a moment later. He freezes. That’s something his father used to do. His  _ father _ . The man who was negligent at best, and physically abusive at worst.

Peter’s so pure. He’s so quick to forgive. It’s been four days. Four! Tony must’ve messed up.  _ Really _ messed up. He wants to apologize so badly, but he doesn’t know where to start. All of this… everything… it was all because he wanted to do better than his father. He wanted to help the world, not weaponize it. He wanted to save lives, and his stupidity was killing the closest thing to a son he’d ever had.

Son. Tony lets out a weak chuckle. How the hell did he let this kid weasel his way into his life? Tony had promised himself long ago that he’d never have kids- so that he could never be as horrible as his father. And here he was, perpetuating the cycle. Tony taps his phone again, but the message still isn’t marked as read. He takes a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself. The sounds of the R&D lab start to come back to him, and he looks out his office window.

There are a few dozen scientists and doctors milling about, all looking at the same x-rays, the same chemicals, the same blood counts, the same toxic readings. Bruce catches his eye, and he tilts his head, wordlessly requesting that Tony come out and join him. Tony tucks his phone into his pocket, but he leaves the sound on. He wants to know if his kid replies, but in the meantime, he’s got work to do if he wants the kid to keep on replying.

* * *

**44 Days Remaining**

_ “Hey kiddo, I know the past couple days that you’ve probably been busy with homework and studying and stuff… Can you come to the tower today? I know I asked the last two days, and I don’t want to be pushy, but I have some people I want you to meet,” _ Tony grinds his teeth as he waits for a response, and he almost jumps when he receives one.

_ “I’m busy.” _

_ “Me too, Pete. Just come over for a couple hours. Please?” _ Tony scoffs with regret after he’s sent the text. Peter will interpret the first part of that text as if Tony is too busy to deal with Peter on his own schedule. He expects that train of thought from the angsty teenager, but he doesn’t expect the hostility in the next text.

_ “Can I be trusted to? Or is that too dangerous? _ ” The text hurts like a knife, and Tony reads it over five times, not sure how to respond. He starts to type a message, but he deletes it. He tries again, but he deletes that too5. He hesitates, and he hits the call button.

Peter huffs as his phone starts buzzing more consistently with his ringtone, and he hits reject. Taking a sip of his milk with one hand, he types a response with the other.  _ “I’m in class.” _ Except he’s not. He’s at lunch, and Tony probably knows that. Maybe he’ll take a hint.

Tony frowns, and he rubs at his left shoulder.  _ “Just a couple of hours. I’ll help you with your homework if you’re still overwhelmed. I don’t want you breathing the cold air, so I’ll have a car for you as usual.” _

When Tony doesn’t receive a response within a couple of hours, he grabs his car keys, telling Happy to take the afternoon off. He’ll pick the kid up himself. Tony pulls up in front of the school at first, but as kids start to come out, he thinks better of it. He loops around to the back entrance. Peter’s got his hood up, trying to sneak out of school undetected, but Tony can recognize his kid instantly.

“Peter!” Tony says. He stops the car and gets out, and Peter looks like a deer in headlights. Other kids stop and watch too, oogling at the pair. They can’t believe Peter Parker  _ actually _ knows Tony freaking Stark. Peter feels the eyes on them, and he knows he can’t run. However, that doesn’t mean he comes any closer to the car. Tony has to close the distance himself, but he stops a couple feet from the teenager. “We gotta go to the tower. C’mon.”

Peter hears Flash’s voice coming closer as the bully leaves school himself, and he clenches his teeth. He can’t help looking at Tony and thinking ‘safe’. He squeezes his wrist, drawing the pain up as a reminder and a shield to keep his distance. Tony stands there patiently, waiting for a response. Flash is still coming closer, and the superhero standoff is only broken by an all-too-familiar. “Parker?!” from Flash.

It breaks Peter out of his trance, and he glares at Mr.Stark. His glares never look like what a normal person would call a glare, but Tony knows him too well, and he feels that glare go straight to his heart. Peter walks past Mr.Stark to the Tesla that’s sitting on idle, and he gets into the passenger seat without another word. He pulls the seatbelt around himself, but he pulls it out a little extra, not wanting to have the pressure on his chest. The poison in his lungs and anxiety making his chest tighter are more than enough without the seatbelt’s help.

Tony looks at Flash, knowing who he is immediately. He’d done his research as soon as Peter had let something slip about a bully. Tony finds himself- just for an instant.  _ Only _ an instant- thankful to Flash for getting his kid to actually move. He immediately regrets it, because what kind of person thanks a bully? Tony Stark, apparently. He gets back into the driver’s seat, and he asks how Peter’s day was. Peter shrugs and shifts, twisting so he can look out the window.

No words are spoken for most of the way. Peter doesn’t want to talk, and every time Tony musters up enough willpower to say something, the anxiety chokes it in his throat, and no words come out. About halfway there, Tony carefully reaches across the console with his right hand and places it on Peter’s back. Peter tenses for a moment, but then he relaxes his muscles again. A little while later, Tony likes to think that he’s leaned into it to some extent. The silence doesn’t break until the car stops in Tony’s designated space.

“What do you want?” Peter asks quietly, and Tony stares at him for a moment, trying to choose an answer. He wants everything for this kid. He wants the world for him, and he would give it to him if he could.

“I want you to be safe,” Tony says. Peter scoffs and shrugs his hand off of his back finally. Tony pulls his hand back as if he’s been burned.

“What about happy?”

“That too. I just- you can’t… you can’t be happy if you’re dead, Peter,” Tony says quietly. Peter understands him, but he doesn’t know what to say. A cough conveniently comes to him, and he grabs his backpack as he hacks into his arm, getting out of the car. Tony sighs and follows suit.

When they get into the elevator, Tony presses a button that Peter knows is one of the Research and Development floors, and he assumes Tony has some sort of project to show him.  _ Great. _

However, when the door opens, it isn’t a workshop like he expects. It’s a lab, like one he’d find in a university, and there are a few dozen people in white coats milling about. A few of them stop and glance at Peter and Tony. Peter swallows.

“What is this?”

“A collection of the greatest scientists and doctors of our time. They’re looking for a cure,” Tony explains. He puts a hand on Peter’s back, guiding him into the lab.

“For cancer?”

“No. For you.” When the words leave Tony’s mouth, Peter stops walking, eyes widening. Tony gives him a minute to take it all in, rubbing his left arm nervously. Peter’s eyes dart around the room, and he swears every pair of eyes is on him. They’re all here… for… for him? No. No, that’s not right. It’s not fair.

“No,” Peter whispers, and Tony looks at him in surprise.

“What?”

“I said no,” Peter says, not managing to keep the appalled snarl out of his voice. “This isn’t right.”

“What- What do you mean?” Tony asks confusedly. Peter takes a step backward, and Tony catches his arm, making sure to keep a light grip. The kid looks horrified. “What’s wrong? Pete?” Peter’s chest is rising and falling, and his eyes are darting around, and his hands are coming up to his ears to keep out the overstimulation of too much sound. Tony knows the signs all too well.

“Okay. C’mere,” Tony pulls him into a side office, twisting the pole for the blinds shut and closing the door. Peter’s looking at the window, even though he can’t see anything, and he’s shaking. He clenches his eyes shut. Tony doesn’t think. He just moves, enveloping the kid in a hug whether he wants it or not. Peter gasps, his head getting tucked under Tony’s chin.

No. He… he should still be mad at Tony. But his heart is pounding and he can hear every heartbeat in the room and every clink of glass, and every whisper and breath that comes out of everybody’s mouth, and he can’t hold himself back. Peter squeezes Mr.Stark tightly, turning his face into his chest to block out the light. He tries to bring his focus back into control.

He focuses on the firm yet gentle hand rubbing circles on his back and the feel of Tony’s suit against his face. It’s wet, and that’s probably Peter’s fault for crying like a little child. He’s so stupid to- Peter cuts off the intrusive thought, filling his brain with a different sound instead. He focuses on Tony’s heartbeat, steady and strong near his ear. Peter takes a shuddering breath that results in a hacking cough before more breathing, and he feels a hand in his hair calming him. They stay like that for anywhere between two to fifteen minutes, but Peter isn’t sure, as he can never really tell time during panic attacks. Once the boy’s breathing evens out and his senses return to normal, he pulls away.

“Sorry,” Peter mumbles.

“You know you never have to apologize. What’s wrong?” Tony says. He tries to follow the retreating boy with hands on his shoulders, but Peter steps out of range, and Tony doesn’t push. Peter’s torn between anger at Tony and desire for comfort from him.

“It’s not fair,” Peter whispers, almost inaudibly.

“I know, kiddo. But there’s nothing we can do about it now except for develop a cure for-“

“No,” Peter interrupts. “You don’t understand.  _ This _ .” He gestures to the lab outside of the office. “This isn’t fair. How much does this cost?! It’s got to be millions. Mr.Stark. I’m not- I’m not worth that.”

Tony’s heart sinks. “Of course you are…”

“No! I’m not! Tony, think about this. All these doctors and smart people and inventors- they could be doing something else. They could be working on something that actually helps people. Not just me!”

“We don’t know how far the toxin spread-“

“Don’t give me that!” Peter hisses. “We stopped the terrorists. That’s done with. I’d rather you spend all this on curing something important instead of me. This whole thing is  _ my _ fault. Mine! I deserve it. I was dumb and I made a mistake. I  _ deserve _ to die. Other people’s lives can’t be risked for mine.”

“Don’t say that,” Tony snaps, his voice taking on a dangerous tone. “You don’t deserve to die. Don’t you ever say that, and by god, don’t you ever believe it!”

“Peter Benjamin Parker- you are singlehandedly the most pure, wonderful, amazing kid that I have ever met, and never- never  _ ever _ \- would you deserve to die.”

“That still doesn’t mean I’m worth more than anyone else,” Peter argues. Tony pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Okay. Okay… let’s look at this in a different light. Spider-Man. He saves lives, right?”

“Yeah, but-“

“If you’re gone, who’s gonna stop all the bank robberies and protect New York City?”

“It doesn’t  _ need _ me. There’s the police and the Avengers and you-“

“I can’t, Peter,” Tony cuts him off again. “I can’t let you die, and if you did, then I don’t think I’d be able to keep going. You want New York to lose two of her protectors?” It's a loaded question and they both know it.

“N-no,” Peter stammers.

“Don’t worry about the money. I always tell you that. I have more than enough to go around, and just because I’m spending money on you doesn’t mean that we aren’t also researching other diseases. Got it?” He crosses his arms, waiting for an answer. Peter looks at his feet. He sees Tony’s point but… it still doesn’t feel right.

“I don’t like this.”

“I know. It’s only temporary,” Tony says, although he’s not quite sure what Peter is referring to. He’s just trying to give blanket comfort.

“Okay,” Peter sighs, and the way that his shoulders sag tell Tony that he’s giving in. The billionaire’s chest fills a billion tons lighter. He sets a hand on Peter’s shoulder, and this time, the teenager doesn’t shrug him off.

“We’ll take it easy today. I’m just going to introduce you to some people, and they’re going to get a couple of samples from you. Okay?”

“I don’t like needles,” Peter says.

“I know, bud. I’ll be with you the whole time.”

Tony wants Peter to stay as calm as possible, so he opts to do the blood test last. He can tell Peter is nervous, but he feels a sense of pride at the way that Peter puts a smile on his face and shakes the hand of a dozen scientists. Tony stays close, ready to support him if needs it. After a photo, chest x-ray, and pulmonary function test, a kind-looking doctor ushers them into one of the offices to get a blood draw done.

“Which hand is your dominant?” She asks gently.

“Right,” Peter says, waving his hand.

“Okay. Just go ahead and roll up that sleeve for me then,” She nods, and Tony thinks that Peter’s flinch is because of the needle. Peter’s eyes flicker to Tony for the briefest of moments.

“I’d actually- uh- prefer the other arm... Miss- ma’am,” Peter stutters. She frowns.

“It’ll hurt less if it’s your dominant arm,” Tony says, wanting to minimize his kid’s pain. He moves behind Peter’s chair, setting one hand on his shoulder encouragingly while the other tugs on his sweatshirt sleeve. Peter can’t think of a way out before the doctor is pulling his sleeve up too, and it’s too late. Tony’s eyes widen at the yellow and brown coloring around his wrist.

“What the-... Peter, is that from the web-shooters?!” He asks in alarm. Peter won’t meet his eyes, staring at the ground. The web-shooters are padded so they won’t hurt him. Tony is about to check his other wrist when he remembers. The fight that they had at the terrorist compound. He’d grabbed Spider-Man’s wrist to keep him from running in. He did it.  _ He _ created the bruise. He hurt Peter. Tony’s chest feels tight, and every part of him wants to run- wants to leave and get himself as far away from this kid as he can, before he does any more harm.

But the doctor is looking for the vein on Peter’s arm, and on reflex, Peter’s left hand flings out and grabs Tony’s hand tightly, squeezing it. Tony squeezes back instinctively, but he doesn’t watch as she slides the needle into Peter’s arm and draws blood. His brain just repeats  _ I hurt him. I hurt him. I hurt him. I hurt him. _

No wonder Peter had been so distant this past week. The kid was still upset over Norris, and every time he looked down, he was reminded both of her and the mentor who  _ betrayed _ him. Iron Man’s supposed to protect him, not hurt him. Tony thinks he’s going to be sick. His brain works him deeper and deeper into a pit of guilt and despair. Peter’s still gripping his hand tightly when the needle comes out.

“Okay. We’re all done,” the doctor promises. She grabs a bandaid for the crook of Peter’s arm which is- both ironically and purposefully- a Spider-Man themed band-aid. Peter would crack a smile if he wasn’t so worried because Tony had seen it. He knows Tony has seen the bruise, and he knows Tony will be beating himself up unless Peter himself stops it. As soon as the doctor closes the door, they both try to speak.

“Peter-”

“Mr.Stark-

“No. Me first. It’s my turn to tell you how dumb you’re being,” Peter demands, and Tony’s so taken aback by the command in Peter’s voice that he lets him. “It’s okay. I promise. I know you didn’t mean it. I know you didn’t mean for-” He cuts himself off before he says her name, and Tony takes his chance.

“No. It’s not okay. Peter, I  _ hurt _ you. Do you hear me? That whole mission… everything was my fault. I’ve been off the hinges since this whole thing started, and that’s… it’s not fair to you. And now I’ve hurt you. I can’t- it’s not,” Tony grapples for words. “I swore! I swore I would never be like my father was and-”

“Stop,” Peter pleads, bringing his other hand around to grasp his mentor’s. “I don’t know what happened between you and your dad. I know it wasn’t good. But I do know that you are better than him, Mr.Stark. The fact that you even acknowledge what he did was wrong is a start. I know, okay? I know that you never want anything bad to happen to me. It’s okay.”

Tony bites his lip, looking directly into Peter’s eyes. How did a kid this pure… this perfect… ever come into his life? “I don’t deserve you,” Tony says quietly. Peter looks a bit surprised by the response, and it takes him a bit to come up with an answer.

“Maybe… maybe you don’t. But I’m here, and you’re doing the best you can. That’s all we can ask for,” Peter says. Before Mr.Stark can come up with another excuse, Peter hugs him, burying his face into his chest again. It takes a moment for the stunned man to bring his arms up to embrace him. He lets out a choked laugh.

“Emotional day, huh?”

“Shut up, Mr.Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we have a bit of a decrease in iron dad angst, but I'm not promising it's going to last.


End file.
